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WILL-POWER


 AND    WORK



               BY

  JULES PAYOT, LittD., Ph.D.
    Rector of the Aix-Marseilles University
    Author of "The Education of the Will"



       Authorized Translation by

       RICHARD DUFFY
FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY

     NEW YORK AND LONDON

            1921
 
6//
Pi4U
 192J
        Copyright, 1921, by
  PUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY *
Printed in the United States of America
        Published, June, 1921
JUL-5'21  ' [O
Copyright under the Articles of the Copyright Convention of the
Pan-American Republics and the United States, August 11,  1910
^
©CI.A622131 
              CONTENTS
                                             PAGE
INTRODUCTION   .  .   '........vii
PREFACE............xxiii
BOOK I—ATTRACTIONS AND  METHODS
                   OF WORK
I—LOVE OF WORK  THE CONDITION OF
      ALL PROGRESS    ........3
    The Appeal to Fear—The Appeal to Emulation
    —The Bribe of Reward—True Nature of Pleas-
    ure—The Profound Pleasure of  Energy—The
    Normal  Stimulant  of  the Will—Christopher
    Columbus—Moral Wretchedness of the Idle—
    Without Work  no  Spiritual Health—Joys of
    Discovery—Work  the  Means  of Freedom—
    Human Value of Cooperation—French Effort
    the Safeguard of Civilization—No  Effort Is
    Fruitless—Famous  Men  Have  Been as  You
    Are—The Incorruptible Accountant.

II—REAL INTELLIGENCE  AND PSEUDO-
      EFFORT   ...........60
    Defamation  of Work—Counterfeit  Produc-
    tions — Precedents — Necessity   of   Revised
    Methods—Real Intelligence the Recognition of
    Things as They Are—The  Case of Napoleon—
    Intelligence Implies a Strong Moral  Educa-
                       [v] 
CONTENTS
                                              PA'.fc
    tion—Insanity: the Distortion of the Sense of
    Reality—Reality in  the Classics—Learning la
    Not  Intelligence—What   One   Knows—The
    Moral Domain—Necessity  of Reality in Poli-
    tics—How to Discern the Best Minds.

Ill—HOW  TO  WORK........102
    The Value of Time—Proper Use of Time-
    Economy of  Minutes—Varieties of  Energy
    —Knowing One's Capacity—Forethought  on
    What  is to be Done—Selecting the Method of
    Action—Vigor in Beginning an Effort—Certain
    Counsels—One Thing at a Time—Doing All
    Things Well—Imaginary Fatigue—Drawing on
    the Deep Reserves  of  Energy—Illusory  Ex-
    haustion—Only Short Work Periods  Neces-
    sary—How to Limit One's Effort—Proper Dis-
    posal  of Energy—The Time  for  Work  Is
    Short—Preparedness  for  Work—Actual  and
    Fancied  Preparation—The Sacred  Hours—
    Importance  of Health—Organization  of Per-
    sonal  Energy—One's Only Help Lies in One-
    self—Cooperation.

IV—STUDIES OF CERTAIN GREAT MEN   . 185
    Political  Effort  Unorganized—Examples  of
    Authors—The  Greatest of Frenchmen—Darwin,
    Lyell—Poussin,  Victor   Hugo,  Zola—Jules
    Verne, Jouffroy, Kant—The Case of Renan, of
    Flaubert, of Littre, of Rollin.
[vi] 
CONTENTS
BOOK II—PSYCHOLOGICAL BASES OF A
       SOUND METHOD OF WORK
                                             PAGE
I—ATTENTION...........217
    Importance of Attention—Voluntary Attention
    is Rare—Breathing as a Factor in Attention—
    Mechanism of Intellectual Freedom—Attention
    and Sentiment—Singling Out  Difficulties—In-
    fluence of  Preparation.

II—MEMORY............247
    Losses Through Useless Learning?—Number of
    Things  Known  Unimportant—Slow  Growth
    of Ideas  of Value—Capital  Importance of
    Words—Value  of Associated Ideas—Necessity
    of Orders—Essential Ideas—Concentration  the
    Real  Power—Value of  Forgetting:—How to
    Be Master of One's Memory.

Ill—INSTRUCTION THROUGH READING  . 295
    Dangers of Reading—The Four Kinds of Read-
    ing—Reading for a Profession—Books Merely
    Instruments — Useless Learning — Self-Knowl-
    edge Through Reading—Complementary Read-
    ing—Moral Reading—Reading For Diversion—
    The  Art  of  Taking  Notes—Sifting   One's
    Notes—How  to   Classify   Notes—Reading
    Not Much But Wisely—The Role of the Critic-
    Preference For Great Books.
[vii] 
CONTENTS
IV—METHODS IN VARIOUS BRANCHES OF
     STUDY............349
    Mathematics — History —> Latin — Medicine—
    Law—Philosophy—Trade   and  Commerce—
    Executive Effort—Orderliness—Excellence Is
    Good Use of One's Gifts.

CONCLUSION...........390
    The Choice of a Method—Working for a Liv-
    ing—Advantages and Disadvantages of a Great
    City—Much Leisure Not Necessary—The Duty
    of Showing Example—Self-Revolution—Know
    Your Own Mind.
T vi« ] 
INTRODUCTION
           By The Translator

  Most of us experience a twinge of regret
now and then that we know so little.  The
only persons  immune to  these  pangs are
those whose  self-assurance convinces them
they know everything—or at least something
about everything.  Give them an  hour or so,
and they will ascertain all recorded informa-
tion on any subject about which their knowl-
edge is in the slightest limited. Fortunately
for the progress of mankind, such self-confi-
dent know-alls  are in the minority.
  The great majority of men and women,  on
the contrary,  are  mistrustful of the knowl-
edge they actually possess. What  is worse,
they repine at the thought that they  have
missed or misused so many past opportuni-
ties to enrich their mind; and can see few, if
any, in the present or future.  The business
of  gaining a  livelihood absorbs  all  their
energy; the routine of the day's work  dulls
their mental appetite for aught but distrac-
[ix] 
INTRODUCTION
tion  and  amusement.   In  time even the
counter-irritant of diversion palls, and they
gradually reach the melancholy conclusion
that  all they can do is drudge  day in and
day out.
  Meanwhile they try to stave  off the en-
croachment of illness, and, if prudent, keep
laying aside a thrift portion for the inevitable
rainy day of age that never clears, but grows
cloudier. They may be employers or the em-
ployed.  Whichever they are, their condition
must  be one of  a certain  disorganization,
mental and physical, if they have not learned
that the surest means of happiness is loving,
not hating  work.
  "Work!" they will query.  "Why, that's
just  what's the matter  with all of us.  We
have too much work—nothing but work."
  What they really mean is that they have
too  much  routine,  which  is  drudgery,
whether it be a routine of toil or of pleasure.
They have not learned that a variation  of
mental diet is as beneficial  to the soul as a
variation of physical diet is to the body.
  Many pay scrupulous attention to the care
and development of their physical being and
never pause to reflect that their intellectual
[x] 
INTRODUCTION
constitution also requires training.   They
shrink from the effort involved in study or
reading, much as a child seeks to evade a dose
of unpalatable  medicine.   In the world of
thought such adults move as ignorantly as
children would  in the material  world if they
had not parents and guardians to supervise
their behavior.  They fail to realize, whether
they are financially prosperous in their sta-
tion or able only just to get along, that their
mind  is  the mainspring of their existence.
  In nine cases out of ten the mind is not
developed to the utmost of its possibilities;
and the  fault lies not in our fate, our up-
bringing, our environment, but in ourselves.
To root  out this fault we have also in our-
selves a twofold instrument,  namely, will-
power and work.  This book shows us how
to  fashion and employ  that  intellectual
magic wand with which those  humble, per-
severing toilers we know as "great men"
were  able to  conjure up  the marvels of
achievement  that assured them a full and
rounded life principally  and,  only inciden-
tally, the  fame  that marks them for our
respect and emulation.
  Work  was the secret  of their happiness,
[xi] 
INTRODUCTION
first of all, and then of their power of pro-
duction.  The love of work made what pessi-
mists call the  "dull round of existence" a
succession of radiant days for them.
  But to love  to work, we must know how
to work; and to know how to work is to be
work's master instead  of being its slave, as
so many are from their schooldays onward.
Such draft-dodgers  in  the great war of life
escape toil and discipline at one period only
to be subjected to  heavy  penalties at  an-
other. In intellectual effort, as under arms,
the healthy, normal  person  obeys orders and
"carries on."
   If in the course of our education we have
just managed to pass muster by hook and by
crook, we have cheated no one but  ourselves.
Later in life we pay the price for such slack-
ing  with usurious  interest,  when we  find
ourselves condemned to an occupation repel-
lent to our aptitudes and taste, and yet the
only job for which we are qualified in con-
sequence of our shiftless training.
   Let it be conceded, however,  that we have
taken or do now take  advantage of the edu-
cational facilities  at  our  command  to  the
best of our power.  For to  the wise, every
[xii] 
INTRODUCTION
day they live  is a day to learn.   Then, we
must ask whether that power of  ours is as
efficient and productive as it should be? Is
it  under the  ever-watchful  direction of a
method of  procedure that is tried and true
as the compass to the pole-star?  Those of
us who are honest with ourselves will admit
that the greater  part of the brain-work we
do is under no  such guiding method.  The
result  is that a  great part of our  mental
effort  is either foiled or wasted.
  We  learn,  early  in life,  what we learn
from instructors and books, either  unwill-
ingly or too willingly  and  voraciously. In
the first instance our intellectual revenue is
incomplete and  deficient.  In the second it
is a jumble of knowledge that is  not  negoti-
able.  The habit of defective method clings
to us as we enter upon our business  or our
professional career.   The  result is that we
do not attain  the success and contented state
to  which  we  feel  we are  entitled,  and to
which we are in  very truth entitled.
   We have not  come into  our own  simply
because we have not pursued the  correct
course.  We do not even now come into our
own because we do not right our course. But
[ xiii ] 
INTRODUCTION
here is presented our great chance, whether
we be twenty, thirty, forty or fifty years of
age,  and whatever be our occupation  and
aims so long as they are dependent on every
man's highest possession—his mind.
  To help  us develop that supreme birth-
right toward the formation of ordered, vivid
intelligence  and  sound individual  person-
ality is the purpose of this book.  For those
who  wish to  achieve  such self-development
it is written by one of indisputable  author-
ity.  President of a great French university,
Dr. Jules Payot has reached that eminence
through a  long career of varied and  dis-
tinguished educational experiences. Experi-
ence teaches, he shows, and experience alone
positively teaches us the things  we learn
from instructors and  from books.
  No knowledge we possess  is really ours
unless  it be merged into the  essence of our
personality.  Because he makes this sense of
experience  so plain and comprehensible to
us, his words of wisdom are  food  and drink
for the mind  no matter at what  period of
our life they  fall within our ken.
  The  extent of Dr. Payot's reading as re-
vealed in this volume can with propriety be
                   [xiv] 
INTRODUCTION
termed  enormous.  Yet we never feel  that
he is imposing information on us, which we
may or may not  absorb,  according to the
receptive  state  of our mind.  Instead, he
proceeds along his way of intellectual dis-
covery and we follow him, at once fascinated
and stimulated by making the same discov-
eries in ourselves of desire  and capacity
for work  and its  rich rewards of strength
and content of  soul.
  We follow him  as a sure guide, who yet
demands  that  we test  every observation,
every step of the way for ourselves.  His
object is not to show us what he can do, but
to have us discern what we ourselves can do
by daily effort and perseverance.
  From the very  outset, when he examines
the French educational system  with  such
searching scrutiny, we find ourselves uncon-
sciously analyzing our own system by  way
of parallel. The disclosure  that the essential
fascination of  study is disguised in  false
colors of supposed attractiveness strikes us
with surprize  and  something of dismay.
Later  we  are  freshened  and  encouraged
when we realize that true  pleasure consists
in the perfect functioning  of the  human or-
[xv] 
INTRODUCTION
ganism when our soul is aglow with ardor,
energy, gayety.
  In this state we have zest and enthusiasm
for intellectual effort, that most exhilarating
of enjoyments. We are stirred with ambition
to extend  and  expand  our  mind  in  our
chosen career.   We  become  conscious  that
merely to arrive at a certain  position in life
and  stay there  without growing from  day
to day in mental development is to stagnate,
and that stagnation is decay.
  If we do not grow each  day in our busi-
ness or profession, as that business  or  pro-
fession itself grows, we find our competitors
and  our  colleagues  outstripping us in the
race.  We fail to gather new strength  each
day to meet the  constant succession of tests
that are  incidental  even to the most shel-
tered lives.
  Nothing  is stationary  in  nature  or in
human nature. Progress is continuous;  and
if we do not keep step  with it,  we  lag
behind and gradually fall from the ranks, to
lie helpless and hopeless by the wayside.
  But the moods of energy  and ardor  and
ambition, which are  mentioned above,  are
so fleeting.  We  lament that they do not last
[xvi] 
INTRODUCTION
long enough for us to carry out any of our
wishes and aspirations.  What is  worse, as
time goes on  and we become more  accus-
tomed to the routine of our environment and
occupation, we find these  moments of rare
occurrence. We wonder rather despondently
why we can not summon them at our com-
mand.
  We are hardly  to blame for  repining as
long as we remain in ignorance of the fact
that the normal stimulant of the mind is our
will-power. Through our will-power and with
proper disposal of our forces we can always
have a  fund of energy  to draw on.   That
may be true, it will be said, but what about
having the time to make use of such energy?
  Even time is ours, Dr. Payot  shows,  if
only we master the secret of  its control.
Most people think they know how  and when
to work but they  will be surprized to  learn
from him not how little they know of this
important matter  but how much they  know
that is erroneous.  Perforce all efforts based
on such error must be a misapplication or a
waste of energy.
  Most people are rarely brought to a reali-
zation  of  the  fact that  they suffer from a
[ xvii ] 
INTRODUCTION
marked deficiency in the power of attention.
Control of the power  of attention, we shall
find, marks  the  dividing  line  between the
normal  and the abnormal mind;  and  dif-
ferentiates the mind  that sees clearly  and
quickly from the mind that conceives only
blurred impressions of facts and ideas.
  Most people  are blissfully unaware that
at least half the time they give to reading is
misspent  either because  they  read  what
they need not or should not read, or because
they read the right books wrongly.  We shall
find what treasures of time we can save both
by  a proper selection of books, magazines
and newspapers and  by a systematic pro-
cedure in reading them.
  Most people are content to  confess that
they have good memory for some things and
no  memory  at all  for others.   We  shall be
amazed to discover that we may all have the
dependable memory we need, if only  we re-
solve to  acquire it scientifically.
  Most people  have  pardonable  pride  in
their ability to utter  an  irrevocable "Yes"
or  "No," and so feel assured  of their will-
power.  We shall  be  surprized to ascertain
that will-power is a strangely  uncertain in-
[ xviii ] 
INTRODUCTION
strument, which works against as well as for
our advantage and, on occasion, does  not
operate at all.
  All who honestly examine their mind  and
methods of procedure will be willing to con-
cede that the statements just set down may
be applied to them; and it is for them that
this book was written.
  But they must not expect to find  in these
pages a quack prescription for an  alchemy
that will change base metal into gold.  They
must be prepared to mine the precious metal
of their intelligence  through careful  and
persevering effort.
  This implies hard work; and, as has been
suggested,  most of us feel we  have more
than  sufficient of that as things are.   But
that is because we have not come to realize
the difference between drudgery or hustling,
and sane, regular toil in which  our soul is
quietly exultant because through it we attain
to freedom and power.
  We say we have no time for any attempts
at exceptional achievement.  We were born
to be dull  plodders.  Yet  it will be shown
how such celebrated men as Charles Darwin
and  Herbert Spencer, among others, were
[xix] 
INTRODUCTION
able to accomplish in brief but regular inter-
vals the  monumental  achievements  which
have made their work an immortal influence.
Darwin,  for instance,  and Spencer worked
such a limited  number of hours on their
particular investigations  and  studies,  be-
cause each suffered  from  insufficient health,
that it seems incredible their total  produc-
tion should bulk so large.  Carlyle held that
no man of letters has ever given more than
one-fifth of his time  and attention to litera-
ture; and he believed that with four  hours
daily,  of serious concentrated effort on in-
tellectual tasks,  one  might attain to results
far beyond the highest expectations.
  We  shall read of other famous philoso-
phers  and scientists, authors  and  artists,
whose  estimate of the number of hours daily
required for intellectual  work,  runs  from
three to six.  At the same time,  the  caution
is issued against the two great enemies of
the  active  mind, which are  overwork and
worry.
  Dr. Payot makes particular allusion to the
tendency among Americans to indulge their
ambition for work until it becomes a mono-
mania, and positively  deleterious to  their
                  fxx] 
INTRODUCTION
health.  In his view there is no excuse  for
working oneself to death when through work
itself one may healthily and tranquilly  ad-
vance to contented age.
  Nattrrally as each one of us is differently
constituted, the capacity of each for work is
different.   It  behooves  us,  therefore,  to
learn the  extent of our  capacity,  and when
it is of greater or less potency.  The varie-
ties  of  occupation  also  have weight in  de-
termining the limits of  our energy.   Some
work makes  a heavier drain on  our brain
forces than  others;  and  certain kinds  of
work are more fitly performed at certain
times than at others.
  The two chief elements in organizing  our
minds for systematic exercise  and develop-
ment of our intelligence are the power of the
attention  and the power of memory.   Culti-
vation of  the attention is a subject on which
there  has been  too little real knowledge
available, that is, knowledge which  results
from experimentation and tests.  Such in-
formation is  provided  by  the  present
authority, who is wise  enough to have us
train our minds through will and  feeling, so
that our attention may  be  withheld as well
[xxi] 
INTRODUCTION
as given.  Withholding the  attention from
idle, useless, or unnecessary matters means
the conservation of just so much nerve force
for prontable expenditure.
  Similarly  in the  case  of  memolV,  Dr.
Payot  solicitously advises us  on  the  impor-
tance of being able to forget  voluntarily as
well as to remember voluntarily,  so that we
may assert full dominion over our powers of
recollection.  He shows us clearly the dif-
ference between  good  memories and poor
ones, for in the latter everything  is piled up
in an  indistinguishable mass, so that none
of the material gathered is available when
needed, and eventually becomes so  much
junk.  In the other, all recollections are kept
in order so that they form  an organized
structure, and constitute  the  actual  intel-
lectual capital of their possessor.
  Many books there are for the  instruction
of the uneducated; but few for those who are
either partly educated or over-educated. The
over-educated are those whose minds have
been crammed with  information that has
never  been digested and assimilated;  the
partly  educated, those who put behind them
all idea of reading for anything but pastime,
[ xxii ] 
INTRODUCTION
once they have  got beyond the confines of
school or of college.  They pride themselves
on the fact that they can get all the informa-
tion they  need by reading the headlines in
the newspapers.
  In earlier days progress in the world was
slow and painful because there was so much
ignorance in  all countries.  Nowadays, as
humanity  strains and tugs feverishly to ad-
vance, it finds its chief obstacle to be the
friction and hindrance caused in the general
mind of the world because the  great major-
ity are partly educated or are over-educated.
  To supplement the  education that is lack-
ing, and to render assimilable the education
that causes  chronic mental indigestion,  is
the purpose of this book.  It is designed to
achieve that purpose, not through any mys-
terious and  occult procedure,  but through
forthright expression of ideas, which he who
reads may understand  as he reads, and be
guided to the knowledge that ensures broad-
ening and deepening of the mind as well as
invigoration of the soul.
                        Bichard Duffy.
[ xx'm ] 
 
PREFACE
  "Give me a point of leverage," said Leib-
nitz, "and I will lift the world."
  He understood  the  mechanism of lever-
age which, translated into terms of thought,
means the concentration of the forces of one's
intelligence upon the  solution of a  problem.
  A mighty pile-driver is only a perfect ham-
mer ; and the most powerful steam engine is
only a combination of levers that  operates
through elementary laws of mechanics.  The
machines of modern industry which afford us
prodigious control in the material world are
only higher  developments of  the  simplest
tools. But these simplest tools are  based on
a system of construction.
  The clear-sighted genius  of the Greeks
divined  that  the  supreme  necessity in any
effort is to proceed straight ahead without
allowing any diversion of attention.  By con-
centrating attention on  the  problem to be
solved, one arrives at the right road of solu-
tion.  Thus it happens that a mind of sharper
[xxv] 
PREFACE
penetration than the ordinary is able to set
aside great obstacles through the system of
leverage.   Doubtless Leibnitz had observed
children  employ this system  or method at
play. Was it not young Potter who, in play-
ing billiards, discovered the eccentric which
permits the distribution of  steam  alterna-
tively at the two ends of a piston? Watt, who
surprized him at this  discovery was imme-
diately imprest with its material value.
  Now these basic methods  or  systems of
machinery which increase its force a hundred-
fold exist also in brain-work.  They add to
the efficiency of the mind as the lever adds
to the strength of our muscles and the tele-
scope to  the reach of our vision.  Never-
theless, the discovery of  such  methods in
physical effort has been much easier than in
mental effort—and for two  reasons.
  The first is that  the problems which con-
front inventors are limited, precise and cir-
cumscribed. Attention is fixt on a design, a
project of material construction.  If miscal-
culations are made or if the inescapable laws
of nature are violated the penalty is imme-
diate and  the correction of the error inevi-
table.  If I misjudge the amount of pressure
                   [ XXVI ] 
PREFACE
a certain piece of machinery will stand,  it
breaks.
  On the contrary, however, in the field of
mental effort errors of judgment are not so
obvious as are errors in material things and
their consequences appear only after a period
of time.  To some workers in the intellectual
field they never become known.
  Nevertheless, it is easy to be led astray by
a confusion of material things that are  in
the least complicated.  It is difficult to draw
back in order to  get a  good look at things,
to see objectively with a fresh  eye and criti-
cize what we see. Herbert Spencer considered
in turn each of the familiar things of which
he made use from the moment he got up  in
the morning;  and he noted that not one  of
them but could be greatly improved by a little
reflection on the  part  of  the  persons who
made  them.  Taylor has  recently proved
through attentive study of the movements of
working men in their simplest duties—load-
ing a wagon or laying bricks, for instance—
that there might be a saving of three-fourths
of  the  energy they expend.   Consider the
mental obtuseness that prevails in the rough
method  of  unloading baggage when  a big
[ xxvii ] 
PREFACE
express  train arrives in Paris.  Eliminate
the loss  of time repeated each day with the
arrival of each  train, the waste of energy,
the ill-humor of everybody concerned  and
one realizes the evils that result when intelli-
gence is not applied in any matter.   Nothing
is so rare as the application of real intelli-
gence to the matter in hand.  Nothing is so
rare as the  objective, reflective attitude of a
mind that studies things free from the rou-
tine  of habit and with new and ingenuous
observation.  Nothing is so rare as a mind,
poised as a true and sensitive pair of scales,
which can note imponderable weights and is
not unbalanced by inhibitions or habits.  If
it is difficult to amend routine practise in
material things where the evidence of error
is palpable, how much more difficult the prob-
lem in matters intellectual in  which conse-
quences are so baffling!  .  .  .
  A great obstacle to clear-sightedness in
intellectual processes has been the  complete
absence of the scientific spirit in psychology
until recent years.  The essential idea that in
psychology there are laws as sure and inevi-
table in effect as in mechanics has not, until
now, penetrated the minds of educators. The
[ xxviii ] 
PREFACE
result has been that mere routine has pre-
vailed because there was no coherent body of
observations and experiments in the field of
mental effort.
  "A Fijian Chieftain was climbing a moun-
tain path one day,  escorted by a long file of
his male followers.   He stumbled in the path
and fell to the ground. At once all his men
fell excepting  one.  Him  they  attacked
fiercely and desired to know whether he es-
teemed himself superior to his chieftain." 1
  Let us not laugh at this, for we are very
much like the Fiji  Islanders, in that each of
us  does the thing he sees done  and does it in
the same way.
  I myself have suffered  from mistakes of
method.  Overburdened with a mass  of di-
verse information  exacted in  my  studies, I
had no means of learning for  myself a per-
sonal method of work.  Our professors never
took us  into  their  confidence about  their
methods; they seemed even to feel a repug-
nance against revealing their processes of in-
vestigation.  Was this a survival of the preju-
dice that esteems work demeaning?  Or did
they choose to have us believe that their suc-
iW. Basrehot: "Saientiflc Laws of the Development of Nations."
                   [ xxix ] 
PREFACE
cess was due to a natural facility that made
work as easy as play?
  On the other hand,  such is the contradic-
toriness  of  human nature, when they did
speak of the work they performed, they ex-
aggerated it to such a degree of  absurdity
that they seemed possest  of  superhuman
energy and  we were discouraged.  So also
Flaubert used to boast that he worked eigh-
teen hours a day.  And how often have I not
heard so-called "intellectuals"  say modest-
ly: " I work fifteen hours a day.''  To such as
these the thing to reply is: "Let me see the
work you do."
  During my studies no one called my atten-
tion to certain truths that I discovered for
myself—and fortunately  before it was too
late. I never suspected that there is such a
thing as technical perfection in work and that
through intelligent adaptation of energy to
the  laws of memory one  obtains  attention.
The art of learning is the art of knowing how
to obey the laws of the mind and of the body.
  But this  obedience  to  inescapable  laws
means the destruction of our indolence, our
vanity and our craving for lawless activity.
We all have the foolish hope that in our case
[ XXX ] 
PREFACE
these laws will not  operate.  So we prefer
to let matters go their own way and our in-
tellectual development is a chance adventure.
We live under the regime of Chance.  Our
ideas form associations  each according to its
own attraction, as fancy wills.  Such an in-
tellectual  life is  only a somewhat coherent
reverie and is agreeable because it is dom-
inated by  the element of the unforeseen.  So
the days of a tourist are interesting because
of the variety of sights he beholds and be-
cause of the unexpected incidents of his jour-
ney  such  as meetings with  new people,
storms, strange  and uncomfortable hotels,
etc.  Now in our travels in learning toward
the goal of a degree we have learned to live
as tourists under the regime of Chance.  It
appeals to our unstable nature and to our
dislike for the exercise of will-power, and
we like it.  It is a natural regime.
  Most people  are  happy thus  and their
life's harvest falls far short of what it should
yield.   Foreigners  unite  in  judging our
French young men as intelligent, serious and
industrious.   They are  curious,  easily
stirred, enthusiastic—but  they  are tourists
travelling in the domain of Chance.  They
[ xxxi ] 
PREFACE
are buoyed up  by presentiments  of  great
deeds which they  will never realize.  They
feel the boiling energy of youth in their veins
and, puffed up  with assurance, dream  of
works  that no one, alas, will ever  read be-
cause they remain in the realm of  good in-
tentions.
  Victims of this uncontrolled energy,  they
waste and scatter their  forces.  I could cite
many such cases of gifted and spirited  men,
whom  I  would liken  to  vigorous plants  of
brilliant  foliage which never bear fruit.
  Shortly after the publication of "The Edu-
cation  of the Will," I was visiting  a distin-
guished professor, a man of profound love of
learning  and also a great worker.  He con-
fest  to me rather  bitterly  that I  was re-
sponsible for a cruel shock he had  suffered.
Suddenly, but too late, he learned in reading
my book how much he had lost in life through
scattered effort.  He was about sixty years
of age  and he told  me further that the sense
of this irreparable  loss was  torture to him
and he could see no ray of hope to soften the
anguish  he suffered from having been the
victim of erroneous methods.
  For the very reason that I myself came  so
[ xxxii ] 
PREFACE
near dissipating my energies in scattered ef-
fort, I now consider it  my  duty to advise
those who come after me.  At this time when
our country is sadly impoverished in man-
power it has need of every ounce of energy.
Our  students  to-day realize that they owe
everything to  their country.  The sacrifices
of the present  generation  are  beyond  the
power of words to express.  Why have a mil-
lion men been  lost in the war if not to enable
the young to carry on intact the patrimony
of ideas and sentiments that makes France a
radiant hearth in the world?  They owe  a
reckoning of their intelligence and their en-
ergy to their country.  It is their capital that
must be made to bear rich fruitage.  But all
capital can be dissipated if it is not intelli-
gently controlled.
  Even if our capital of  intellectual energy
is limited it can be highly productive if our
method of work  is correct; that is if in striv-
ing for our objectives we  follow the laws that
govern  health and  those that  govern  the
memory and the  attention.
  Not only are our forces limited, but life it-
self is short.  We must therefore play  the
game hard  with  destiny.  If as unskilled
[ xxxiii ] 
PREFACE
players we would avoid defeat at the start,
we  must learn the rules  of the game  and
think well before we play.  But if we play the
game well we  shall find that we have a fair
partner to play with.  He is pitiless only to
those who refuse to learn the rules of the
game; toward the others he is generous and
considerate.
  In other words, the true method of work,
once we understand its laws,  will be found
to have nothing cramping  or enslaving in it.
Nay, even somewhat of the chance character
of touring is not inconsistent with its charac-
ter.  There is no restriction against gazing
upon the country as we go along, of refresh-
ing ourselves at a wayside spring or stopping
to gather flowers.  But even in the midst of
such distractions we must  keep in mind that
at the end of each day a certain point in our
journey is to  be reached; and this involves
steady walking and a correct  knowledge of
the direction to be followed.
  Consequently, a certain apprenticeship  is
necessary.   One must  know  one's  trade.
Whether we wish to  plane a board, file a
piece of iron, saw wood  or put in a pane
of  glass,  a  number of indispensable  facts
[ xxxiv ] 
PREFACE
must  be learned in  order properly  to  em-
ploy our strength in accordance with the laws
governing these performances  so that the
work  will be done well.   If an experienced
workman does not give us the benefit of his
experience and correct our mistakes we shall
at much expenditure of effort do only poor
work  until we discover the right way to do
the thing.  But  this  is a waste of time and
energy. We can not pretend to learn by our-
selves all the various steps in any one  pro-
cess that have been gradually accumulated
by generations of observers.  We shall not
evolve out of our own minds the process of
soldering lead pipe  any more  than  we can
discover in  our  own consciousness innumer-
able facts that an apprentice acquires from
his master.  We should learn everything,
even to the correct manner of boiling an egg.
   Now when we  come to the most difficult and
most delicate of all fields of human effort,
which is the work of the brain, it would seem
that only the vaguest kind of instruction and
guidance is necessary.
   Did I say vague?  In  most  cases our in-
structors, who have never analyzed  this im-
portant matter, give us counsel that is ab-
                  [XXXV] 
PREFACE
surd  because it tends  toward  scattering,
rather than concentrating effort.  '' One must
read a great deal!" professors urge in a kind
of rivalry of emphasis, whereas in truth one
should read little and only books of the high-
est value.  My experience empowers me to
state that there is not one student in a hun-
dred who has the slightest idea of a method
in work which is suited to his kind of energy,
his kind of  memory and his physical con-
dition.
  No  one has ever  taught him to  consider
this question of such vital personal  import.
I often come  across  students who  do not un-
derstand how to consult a dictionary or a
grammar for the simple  reason that no one
has ever taught them how. When a task is
set  for them they do  not know how to  set
about  it.  Besides  every decision,  every
choice  is a matter of superhuman effort for
their feeble wills. Nobody shows them how
to "attack" a task;  and in this most difficult
of all apprenticeships, the result is  that  we
have a host of rudderless, despairing young
people who only too often sink into a mor-
bid resignation of discouragement.
  As  a professor of philosophy  I  had the
                 [xxxvi] 
PREFACE
happy inspiration once to sit with my class
in their study hour, and I made  a startling
discovery.   After three months  of classes
there were some students who did not really
understand what my course was all about.
It was a happy discovery  for me  because
from that day  forth  I watched more and
more anxiously the results of my instruction,
which I simplified in method year by year.
  Many  instructors  never seriously inquire
into the  reactions of their scholars to meth-
ods  of instruction.  In my  work, "Appren-
ticeship  to the Art  of Writing," I explain
how some courses are so overladen with  a
variety of matters  that absolutely  nothing
remains in the mind of the learner.
  I hope that in the  present century  we shall
have in every institution of learning a man
with a  taste  for  education  who  is  well
grounded in psychology and who will have
as  his particular function  the control and
operation  of methods  of work.  He would
be a director of work capable of  giving each
scholar the special advice and counsel needed
in  accordance  with the  scholar's  personal
equipment. He would teach scholars how to
learn their lessons, how to use the dictionary,
[ xxxvii ] 
PREFACE
the grammar, how to go about translation,
composition, how to  take notes and how to
classify them.
  He would keep the morale of his scholars
at a high level by making them familiar with
the lives of great men and instruct them also
on the  great power that resides in a wealth
of minor cumulative  efforts.
  To the discouraged scholar he would  give
close observation, study the causes of his
lack of energy and apply the proper remedy.
He would ascertain the failings and the apti-
tudes of each scholar, his habits of mind, his
weak points and his  inclinations and give to
each and all of these young people the  help
they require.
  Gradually this director of work would gar-
ner the fruits of continued  intelligent effort,
the accumulation of  professional experience
and capacity, and he  would  evolve from them
methods of work adapted to all kinds of per-
sons. He would so contrive his  course of ac-
tion that the effort of the best and most intel-
ligent workers would  not die with them.  Thus
he  would end the criminal waste  of experi-
mentation in education as  a result of which
[ xxxviii ] 
PREFACE
each of us at the outset of his career is as
bereft of the sustaining wisdom of our eld-
ers, which died with them for lack of means
of conservation, as tho we were born on a
desert isle.
  Many fine minds have been  ruined through
lack  of  a well-organized system of appren-
ticeship in brain work.  Many discouraged
scholars in a bitter mood of helplessness
have slipt into mediocre and cheap ways of
thinking and living.
  I myself have the painful  conviction that
if I  had known  how to work I  would have
avoided enormous losses of time,  an insen-
sate  waste of energy and tragic moments of
discouragement. What is more I would have
achieved results more quickly, with  greater
ease  and with less fatigue, and my life would
have been happier and healthier.
  On our young  people rests the  responsibil-
ity of the  reconstruction of  France  in the
splendor we desire.  It is in order that they
may be  more content in their work, and find
it easier and more fruitful, it  is to save them
from wasting their energy, that we offer this
manual  of intellectual  apprenticeship. As
[xxxix] 
PREFACE
we ourselves have obtained a minimum of re-
sult through a maximum of effort, they may,
providing they adapt this  book to their per-
sonal case, attain through a minimum of ef-
fort a maximum of result.
Txl] 
             BOOK I




ATTRACTIONS AND METHODS OF WORK 
 
I
LOVE OF WORK THE CONDITION OF ALL
                PROGRESS

  Our system of education, the offspring of
empirical traditions, is based on serious psy-
chological errors.  It seems to ignore the fact
that the roots of the mind reach down to the
emotions of the soul and that the will is a
force  of  feeling.  It would seem natural to
start  out with the cultivation of feeling and
its  intelligent organization.  Through  an
adroit education  of feeling prodigious re-
sults may be attained.  One may thus hold in
check certain powerful tendencies  of a char-
acter  or, on the other hand, add impetus and
vigor to  somewhat feeble inclinations.
  The founders of our  national  system of
education,  dazzled by the developments  of
science and misled by excessive admiration
for Teutonic  erudition, confounded the accu-
mulation of knowledge gathered from outside
with the education of the mind.  Too stren-
[3] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
uous to secrete in memory an encyclopedia of
superficial  knowledge,  they overlooked the
more real education of the soul.  Thus they
deprived themselves of the cooperation of
feeling and the most  efficacious and  most
noble forces of human nature.
            THE APPEAL TO FEAR
  Our teaching system does not cast aside all
emotional appeal for thus it would be doomed
to failure.  Yet through a  heedlessness, the
more regrettable because the French are so
responsive  to generous sentiment, it makes
appeal only to certain sordid emotions such
as fear and envy.  These emotions are pow-
erful and universal but their effect is limited
to the moment.
  The fear of punishment may act as a curb,
but it is never  soothing or stimulating.  Its
only effect is  to repress a bad habit or a
vicious tendency.  Thus it is that the fear of
a beating gradually so closely entwines itself
with the picture of a forbidden act that one
can train a hunting dog not to eat the game
that is shot.  But  even then it is wiser not
to trust too much to this expedient. Through
fear, also, a child may be taught not to play
                   [4] 
LOVE OF WORK
truant; but one can not count on leading the
child  to serious and  earnest effort by this
method.  The child will yield only the  mini-
mum  of effort under  constraint, namely the
outward air of effort and a hypocritical good
will.  The scholar who is bored by his studies
is very ingenious at saving himself from toil.
He seems  to be attentive, but his attention is
niggardly and he shows just enough energy
to deceive his teacher. He is not in earnest
about his work and does not rouse all his
forces to meet its difficulties.
  This lack-loyal attitude is characteristic  of
most  of our students.  They  know  how  to
simulate  attention to their work while they
are actually  engaged  in  their own  line  of
thought.   Through sheer lassitude teachers
become resigned to the appearance of atten-
tion.  There is a joint conspiracy of effort
to escape effort. In my investigations I have
found that the  students  under punishment
for failure of studious duty are  always the
same  band.  How could it be  otherwise?
These penalized scholars are suffering from
infirmity of will-power. To shut them up for
two hours and force them to some task, where
simulation still triumphs, is as judicious a
[5] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK

remedy for their condition as to make a child
copy the conjugation  of a verb in order to
cure it of the grippe.  A malady of the will,
tho it  does not  cause an alarming rise of
temperature is none the less a disease.  Its
symptoms must  be studied, its cause diag-
nosed  and  the specific remedial measures
must be employed.  Instead of punishment
these scholars should  have treatment.  The
fear of punishment will never cure a weak
will.
        THE APPEAL TO EMULATION

  To earnest  and energetic students our su-
perannuated pedagogy offers emulation as a
stimulus of will-power.  Yet it must be ob-
vious to all careful observers that this stim-
ulus incurs the risk of  two kinds of false sen-
timent.  Among the few scholars  who  are
keen to be at the top it excites pride and van-
ity; and among the others, envy.  The right
sort of emulation is born in one's  own con-
science. If to-day I am more courageous and
stedfast than I was yesterday, I  feel I have
improved, and this feeling is one of the purest
and profoundest pleasures of human nature:
It is a  legitimate joy.   But to  compare one- 
LOVE OF WORK
self to one's fellows is deplorable.  Even if
we were able to judge ourselves fairly, how
large a part does not chance play in success?
  Moreover we see ourselves and we see our
fellows  only as it were through a slit in the
door. We are stronger than this or that one
in this or that line of study, but we take no
account of their superiority in character and
courage.  Vanity is a weed of such active
natural fertility that there is no need to cul-
tivate it artificially.  It grows famously of
itself; and young people are only too prone
to exaggerate their own merits and depre-
ciate the qualities of their fellows.
  It is  a mistake to accustom a child to act
only through vanity.  Grown  up and  as  a
student, at work alone in his room, this  stim-
ulus is  no longer operative.  He is droopy
and becomes one of the  many  melancholy
youths  who are unable to find within  them-
selves the spirit of work.
   Therefore, it is imprudent to habituate the
will to  artificial  stimulation so that  it is
roused  into action only through the driving-
power of a will beyond itself. There are only
too many automatons who wholly lack pri-
[7] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
mal force and can be set in action only by
some outside agency.
  It may be that the appeal to vanity, which
begins with childhood, is due to the narrow-
ness of life in the smaller centers.  Unaccus-
tomed to seek in the depths of his  own mind
his reasons for action the  young man looks
for them outside himself.   Is it surprizing
then that later he submits servilely to the
despotism that the opinion  of his little world
imposes on his personality? Such  opinion is
indulgent  to mean  defects, but pitiless  to-
ward independent spirits.  It classes initia-
tive and non-conformity  with crimes.  So it
will always be as long as educational methods
cultivate  the strong but sordid passion of
vanity.
  It is the more  deplorable to have recourse
to vanity because the influence  of  emulation
is so restricted.  It prevails only on the fore-
most members of a class.  As it is  the main-
spring of present teaching methods, the re-
sult is that those who are not among the fore-
most members are, as it were, abandoned.
Nothing remains to  serve  as a stimulus to
them except the fear of punishment; and we
have shown how ineffective is the method by
                   [8] 
LOVE OF WORK
punishment.  There is also,  however, the
stimulus of pleasure or satisfaction to be
gained.
           THE BRIBE OF REWARD

  The-hope of pleasure to be gained as a stim-
ulus is as valueless as the menace of punish-
ment.  To  promise  a youth- some agreeable
reward for the performance of a task is a low-
grade method of education.  He may spur
himself to effort but one may rest assured the
effort will be more apparent than real.  Here
again we find, as in the case of the menace of
punishment, the youth's cleverness at pre-
tense.  When he is only pretending to study
it is a waste of time to discuss his good faith.
A lazy pupil, who is forced to study, will seek
energetically to escape the effort;  and his
teacher at length is  wearied and  contents
himself with the pupil's pretended diligence.
But what the teacher ought to  do is to win
over the personal intimate  will of the pupil
to studiousness.
  Moreover, to promise a pupil  a reward for
studying is to demoralize him.   It means the
admission that work is an annoying burden,
but that to work now is the only means to
[9] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK

escape work in the future.  This attitude of
mind is characteristic of the great multitude
of mediocrities in  colleges  who  manage to
attain a degree in medicine or in law through
a very inferior course of effort and afterward
make no intellectual effort  at  all.   Indeed,
how many professors there are also who hav-
ing  once attained to a post in the faculty
cease to toil and strive.  The error of prom-
ising a reward  of something  agreeable or
pleasurable is due to  ignorance  of  psy-
chology.   Our educational  system  sets  out
from a doctrine of the nature of pleasure that
is radically false, and one which has been de-
vised by sedentary and neurasthenic savants.
In their idea  pleasure can come  to us only
from outside oneself.  Their enfeebled con-
stitutions prevent  them from understanding
the real nature of pleasure.

        TRUE  NATURE  OF PLEASURE
  To a  man of  sound health, pleasure  and
pain are merely the consciousness  of assets
and liabilities in his forces.  Pain exists only
when there is an exhaustion of the energy re-
quired by  his vital functions.  Thus  the
fresh morning air, which is so agreeable to
                   [10] 
LOVE OF WORK
a man in health, may be distressing to a sick
person.
  Pleasure  might be  denominated  as the
song of triumph of the human organism.  It
indicates the proper working of a machine
under high pressure.  It is the consciousness
of  a  superabundance  of energy; and,  as
Descartes says, the feeling of something per-
fect.  When the  organism produces  more
power than it  consumes there  is  fulness.
The nervous system is  vigorous.  One feels
full of ardor, energy, gaiety.  One breathes
deeply and  the heart beats lightly.  The ex-
periments of Claude Bernard prove that joy
increases the production of the gastric juices.
One's  movements are  energetic, lively and
one smiles easily.  The association of ideas is
quick and copious.
  Aristotle, who was not a recluse, as are
some modern philosophers,  and who led the
life of  outdoors,  saw clearly the nature  of
pleasure. Pleasure is a superaddition to ac-
tion and each action has its own pleasure,
which intensifies such action.
[li] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
     THE PROFOUND PLEASURE OF ENERGY
  If we  wish to see a  person enjoy  real
pleasure, we must know that only he himself
can realize it and that must be done through
action.  The highest and most satisfying
pleasure is the pleasure of activity.   Until we
have dug down within ourselves and discov-
ered the intimate joy of energy in action we
have accomplished nothing.
  How often we hear people rail at the folly
of mountain  climbing when a climbing acci-
dent happens in the Alps. Their arguments
against climbing will show you plainly  that
city dwellers of atrophied muscles and  pro-
ducts of our educational system, so much con-
fined to mental  effort alone, are completely
shut off from the intense pleasure of energy
in action.  To be sure, the majority of tour-
ists indulge in mountain  climbing out  of a
vain wish to be  able to relate their exploits.
Such as  these  will always be, as Daudet's
Tartarin  was,  mountain  climbers for  the
comic papers.
  In the rough  ascent  of  a mountain at the
chilling hour of dawn the mountaineer ex-
periences an austere, stoical but profound joy
[13J 
LOVE OF WORK
—that of feeling he is master of himself.  A
consciousness of strength, the most intense of
emotions, rises within him as he quietly meets
and overcomes the first strain on his muscles.
Soon the  rhythm of respiration and heart
beats begins and he is conscious of a physical
exaltation, a flow of health, vigor and elasti-
city.   On this physical  basis arise impres-
sions of splendor suggested by the vast hori-
zons and sublime precipices all about him. A
mighty wave of enthusiasm  bathes his soul,
which retains its new increment of vigor for
weeks, just as a bell continues to vibrate long
after the final stroke of its clapper.
   A  similar pleasure results  from intellec-
tual effort in its  highest exercise.  He who
works with a reward in view or mere success
in an examination has not the slightest con-
ception of this  interior happiness.   But  he,
who, as the mountain climber, employs all
necessary effort  and defies the resistance
 of the unwilling  flesh  and the  dispersive
 mind, is soon repaid for his courage by a pro-
 found  lightness  of spirit and  a sense of
 power.
[13 1 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
    THE NORMAL STIMULANT OF THE WILL

  Conscientious  effort  in healthy  natures
produces a  stimulus that results from the
perfect functioning of the intellectual facul-
ties.  The student  of feeble will never en-
joys the sensation of accomplished effort by
humoring himself.  To  enjoy this sensation
one must deserve  it by undertaking a  task
with confidence and surmounting boldly all
obstacles that present themselves. The true
stimulant of the will is  energetic effort.
  The desire for action comes from a source
deeper than we  ourselves.   Life needs to
spend itself  and- this need proves greater in
proportion  to the  quality and  quantity of
one's energy.  Inaction is the worst of ills.
Consider for a moment a healthy child.  In
play he  expends  a prodigious  amount of
energy in a single  day, because  action- is a
necessity for him  as a means of happiness.
So  also when a student learns -through his
own experience the enthusiasm  of fully ex-
ercised thought he will have no further need
of artificial stimulation.  But it is necessary
that the  studies we recommend to him con-
tinue along the line of his natural tendencies
[14] 
LOVE OF WORK
to action.  To realize this aim attention must
be paid to the needs, desires, inclinations and
natural endowment of  the  student, so that
his  tasks  be suitable to his latent energies
and calculated to expand them.
  One, for example, will acquire a taste for
geometry, if he is made to understand that by
means of geometry he  can fabricate some
object he craves, measure the cubic air of his
room, the area of the garden, the contents of
a pool, the height of a tree, of a house,  of a
hill and, later, with equal ease, the distance
of a planet.
  Similarly  a young woman will  acquire a
lively interest in- physics when she realizes
that  she  is operating  physical laws in so
many acts of her daily life.  If she turns on a
faucet to fill a pitcher  with water, she  puts
the law of communicating receptacles  in mo-
tion.  It will be recalled also that when the
famous French physicist Papin noticed that
the  steam from a sauce-pan on the fire re-
peatedly lifted its lid he was seized with the
notion that here a certain force was to be
captured.   Yet  I have  seen professors scan-
dalized that one should degrade their science
[15] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK

with  every-day  matters,  which  it  should
really ennoble.
  When  a pupil understands that in order to
express his thoughts he must first  learn the
logical construction of a phrase, a sentence
and a paragraph, then he will devote himself
whole-heartedly to acquire a personal method
of expression.
  It is  apparent therefore the pupil must
understand that the work required  of him is
the means by which his youthful energy can
compass  the achievements to which  he as-
pires.  But the satisfying of his inclinations
through effort must ensue from personal ex-
perience  and direct impression.
  It is possible to teach a youth to analyze
the thoughts that  pass in his mind.  It is nec-
essary to do this so that he discern his in-
terior happiness  and amplify it by the care
he bestows on it.   Every  sensation becomes
more clearly defined and gains force once it
is kept in the light of attention.
  Later we shall  pause to consider what oc-
curs in the semi-obscurity of consciousness,
for many students, through distraction, are
the victims of deceptive suggestions which
they accept as genuine.   Does it seem un-
[16] 
LOVE OF WORK
likely that we should distrust our own con-
sciousness?  Then  it must be remembered
that all manner of suggestions seek to coil
about and control the attention.
  There is one main sensation that becomes
oppressive if we palter with it and this is
the  sensation of  fatigue, a  tempting and
dangerous sensation.  We must  turn  aside
from it when it presents  itself.   If one de-
lays to parley, one yields  to it and ceases to
work.
  How  often in  the  course  of an arduous
tramp we are confronted  with its imperious
demand.  Yet if we thrust it aside we  are
amazed to discover the reserve forces within
ourselves.  This sensation of fatigue is very
subtle and cries to us that the last ounce of
strength is exhausted.  But  it is fallacious
and the proof of the fact is  that if we re-
fuse to be persuaded we  are astonished at
the  reserve  forces which it had been dis-
sembling.
  The  same principle holds true in  brain-
work.  How little we do in comparison to
what we are capable of doing. But this in-
sidious suggestion of fatigue creeps into our
consciousness and as we  seek only a plaus-
[17] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
ible excuse to stop working we yield and it
gradually becomes master of us.
  On  the other hand we shall  see that if we
obstinately refuse to entertain the  sugges-
tion of fatigue gradually we shall discover in
ourselves  rich and richer  stores of energy.
  Just as  in certain soil, artesian wells must
be sunk very deep to set water flowing, so we
should occasionally dig deep below the heavy
suggestions  of fatigue to  set free the real
springs of energy.  Then they bound upward.
It is upon these hidden sources of energy that
a delicate young woman draws in order  to
dance the night long without fatigue and with-
out exhausting effort. It is through these hid-
den sources  of energy, also, that persons  of
enfeebled  will-power and  incapable  of de-
cision are  able under the stress of great emo-
tion to perform some act of heroism that sur-
prizes them.
  But sudden emotions which set  in motion
the deeper sources of energy  are transitory
in their influence.  The weak-willed  person
soon  relapses into his original state over-
come  with fallacious sensations  of power-
lessness.
  It is important also that we decide  always
                   [18] 
LOVE OF WORK
to probe ourselves deeply enough to tap the
living source of energy.  We must not rely
upon transitory  emotions nor on  artificial
stimulus. We must realize that the one and
only lasting stimulant is the  will.  It is
through bad habits that we fail properly to
command our energies.  In moments of full
vigor we should  fix the standard of our en-
ergies;  and when  it  is  thus  recorded, we
should never admit that they can sink too far
below  this high level, and under no circum-
stances that they can fall to zero.  Frequent-
ly we do very good work when we start out
with a feeling of fatigue.  There is only one
way of  ascertaining  whether this  feeling is
false or real and that is by action.  Action
alone  is the true test of our actual capacity.
   When we set about any work, we must do
 so with the conviction that we shall succeed.
 We must not for an  instant admit the pos-
 sibility  of  a set-back, but plunge into the
 work with ardor and devotion.  Then we shall
 never again permit a false  sensation of fa-
 tigue to bring in its train, with our own more
 or less hypocritical complicity, a whole coali-
 tion of ' * defeatist'' ideas and feelings.  Such
 a coalition  can never take form if on begin-
[19] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
ning our work we face obstacles with decision
and confidence.
  It is  to be  noted, furthermore, that it is
rarely  while  we  are  working that  effort
is painful to us.  This happens either before
or  after the actual effort is exercised.  It
happens after because it is possible we are
really tired. It happens before because of the
action of getting under  way which implies
concentration  of thought  on what we are
about to do. It is this preliminary exercise of
(attention that is difficult.  But once we have
actually got to work we are absorbed in it.
  The fact is  that work  is a fierce struggle,
as every struggle is fierce, and it demands
courage.  Proudhon compares work to war,
which may be true  enough of dangerous oc-
cupations where one  is  constantly in the
shadow of death, but it is not true of intel-
lectual work. In any case, setting peril aside,
actual warfare is made up of enduring pa-
tience and stoic indifference to sufferings, pri-
vations and setbacks. And these latter are the
very virtues of the conscientious brain-work-
er.  Solitude and silence are his lot, and also
he maintains a steady contempt for the pro-
testa of his physical being and a determined
                   [20] 
LOVE OF WORK
resistance to the innumerable tendencies and
association of ideas that intrude to divert his
attention.  We  may  add further that for
many young scholars there is the added bur-
den of poverty and a minimum of comfort.
  Then as soon as our superiority reveals it-
self there comes the ill-will  and jealousy of
our fellows, and what is worst of all, some-
times the jealousy and ill-will of a leader who
serves one badly.  But just  when difficulties
and injustices assail us, we take account of
our strength and bravely keep right on with
our work.  "To those in whom I am  inter-
ested,"  Nietzsche wrote, "I wish suffering,
isolation, sickness, unfair treatment at the
hands of others, and opprobrium.   I wish
that they may experience profound self-con-
tempt, the torture of self-defiance, the stress
of defeat.  I have no pity for them, because
what I  wish them is the sole  test to show
whether they have or have not real worth.
Let them hold fast!"
          Christopher Columbus
  In  our moments of discouragement it is
salutary for us to have a comforting com-
panion.  Let us recall for instance Christo-
                   [21] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

pher Columbus, lost on an unknown sea, the
victim of storms and of bad food.  He had to
fight not only against the fears and super-
stitions  of his crews, and against the secret
disloyalty of  his  subalterns,  but what is
more, no doubt in sleepless nights he had to
contend with his own doubts and the sugges-
tions  of cowardice,  which  in  moments  of
crisis will reveal themselves in the most fine-
ly tempered souls.
  But the fine edge of his will  did not turn
into weakness.  Once for all he  decided that
he would see it through, and amidst the fury
of the tempest, the mutiny  of his men and
his inward doubts, he remained  firm and un-
conquered.    He   knew  that   persevering
faith triumphs over obstacles and that it uses
them as a lever.
  Christopher Columbus is the perfect model
of human energy because all moral and ma-
terial obstacles confronted him simultaneous-
ly.  All men  who have accomplished  any-
thing have confronted inward obstacles, such
as indolence, doubt, which should be over-
come  at the outset, and then other obstacles
either material or social.   Moral  grandeur
consists in triumphing over  all  such advers-
[22] 
LOVE OF WORK
ity.  Who does not understand now that idle-
ness is only cowardice and worthlessness.

     MORAL  WRETCHEDNESS OF THE IDLE
  The idle person is a deserter. A parasite
on  the toil  of others, he leads a  stagnant
life, void of value, of dignity, of happiness.
Even in college the idle person enjoys no sat-
isfaction. His career of dissimulation passes
in a tricky and demeaning struggle to achieve
an appearance of effort just sufficient to save
him from punishment.
  On leaving  college he  becomes the incom-
petent student, a fixture in lounging places
who drags himself through days of boredom
at an age when the  energetic toiler lives in
the  enthusiasms  of  newly  discovered hori-
zons. Later, perhaps, he becomes an incom-
petent physician, reduced  to  the  shift  of
charlatan practise for lack of competency and
knowledge.
  One meets idlers also in law schools, their
minds all a-fog  about  law  and legal pro-
cedure,  who become poor lawyers  and who
are reduced like incompetent doctors to char-
latan devices.
  On all sides idlers are found among  the
[23] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
  failures, the embittered and the envious and
  all those who, on meeting an acquaintance
  successful through hard work, greet him with
  the traditional  remark:  "You're a  lucky
  chap!"
    Idlers form  a  growing  population  for
  whom work is an insupportable burden, as it
  really is, if one has not discovered the mean-
*  ing of work, its fruitfulness, and its joys, the
  most intimate, most profound and most last-
  ing of  any in this life of ours.
    A choice is offered you at your entrance
  into this life.  Either you accept the law of
  work—or you aline yourself with the refuse
  of humanity, made up of parasites, of the in-
  dolent, of all who exploit the  credulity and
  vices of human nature. . . . These social par-
  asites are of the same breed as cowards. They
  dread  persevering effort. "Idleness," says
  Bayle,  "angers heaven, which has no mercy
  for those who will not work."
    It is necessary, however, to remark that
  idleness is not an absolute quality, but exists
  in degrees.  Thus no one is so wholly lazy as
  to permit himself to die of hunger. It follows,
  therefore, that there is in the idle person a
  germ of will-power that can  be developed.
                    [24] 
LOVE OF WORK
But idle persons allow it to dry up and perish
because the fear of effort, which could eas-
ily be banished, tries to justify itself through
the intelligence  with  the  result that  all at-
tempt at reconstruction is  blighted.
  In my previous work, "The  Education of
the Will," there is an account of the soph-
isms  of the idle, of their counterfeit argu-
ments that  almost  have  legal  currency.
Among these are the following: "One can't
be made over again,'' and,  " It's impossible to
do anything in a small town.''
  To resign oneself  to  the part  of  doing
nothing is after all a stupid decision, because
no one can escape at least a minimum of ac-
tivity.  What is  more, the idler suffers in-
numerable small tortures of effort that the
man  of energy never is conscious of, be-
cause the  idler has let his standard of men-
tal accomplishment fall so low that the least
effort is a labor to him.   A social call to be
paid, an evening in society, a  tactful letter
to be written, a minor errand,  are  towering
responsibilities to a person of enfeebled will.
This shows how true is the saying that Satan
employs all his ingenuity  to turn everything
into drudgery for those  that  will not toil.
                   [25] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
    WITHOUT WORK NO SPIRITUAL HEALTH
  We have said that as the result of climbing
in the Alps  there remains an increase of
vigor and a lasting strengthening of will-
power.  Similarly energetic brain-work has
a tonic effect.  He who really exerts himself
becomes more and more master of his atten-
tion, more decisive, more resolute, more per-
severing.
  This is. a great gain, but  it is not the only
one.  The worthiness thus achieved is rich in
happiness.   Public   esteem nearly  always
swings its recompense to the competent per-
son.  An expert physician, a lawyer of bright
mind, an able professor, an official who sees
things as they actually are and is not  over-
borne by precedent,  are  finally carried far-
ther onward by public support.  It  is true
that this reward may not fall to those earnest
toilers who  die  young  and whose  life is
usually embittered by the hatred of the envi-
ous.   But if one lives, one  is almost certain
to triumph over envy, which declines for lack
of courage.  In any case it is better for those
of genuine worth not to count upon the  re-
wards of the world.  As  a  usual thing these
                  [26] 
LOVE OF WORK
rewards  go to mediocre people who alarm
nobody.  One must be of mediocre ability not
to have in advance sure reward in increased
power and  its resultant  confidence, which
lifts one above the fickleness of fortune. The
rewards  of  the world are only by-products
of work.
             JOYS OF DISCOVERY
  Coupled   wth  the  feeling  of  increased
power are  the  intense joys  of  discovery.
The real worker may be  compared to the
Alpine mountain climber  who scales a dif-
ficult height to  find  himself facing a vast
new  horizon.   The  brain-worker  experi-
ences this same sensation after toilful effort,
when he  discovers a mass  of confused facts
suddenly falling into an order that illumin-
ates his  mind.  The chaos of contradictory
ideas that  seemed crude  as the  patches of
color in  a painting seen at too close range,
suddenly disclose themselves in simple and
harmonious accord. Thereafter he sees these
facts fit themselves smoothly into his theory,
which little by  little becomes more firmly
rooted and grows as a mighty oak.
  I have experienced such joys of discovery
                   [27] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
which give a new tone to life.  I recall with
what emotion I suddenly became aware of the
absurdity of the theory of free-will as it was
being taught to us.  That day at the bedside
of a patient at Saint Anne's hospital, I grasp-
ed the meaning of "inability to will" and saw
that the will is only a word. Back of this word
lies a host of confused sensations, tendencies,
emotions  and ideas which strive  to assert
themselves and  consequently to gain control
of the power that commands the three hun-
dred and sixty-eight executives which are our
muscles.  The inability to will among our pa-
tients, I noted, proceeded either from an in-
capacity  of emotion or an excess of emotion
suddenly  thrown into action.  From that
moment I realized that we could win our free-
dom  by far-sighted strategy and adroit tac-
tics.  For thirteen years I allowed this dis-
covery to mature and it eventuated on one
side  in my volume "The Education of the
Will" and on the other side in "Belief."
  Many  young people  spoil  their  lives
through the same causes that made miserable
the patients of diseased  will whom I studied
at Saint  Anne's—that is, through their in-
ability to devote sufficient breadth and depth
                  [28] 
LOVE OF WORK
to worthy thoughts.  They scatter their at-
tention like crumbs.
  This discovery permits me also to say with
certainty, after twenty years of observation,
that our  system  of  education, because it
makes the method of scattering the rule, is
only a dissipation of energy and intelligence.
  I made another discovery.  For it is dis-
covery to pursue  an abstract law with all
its wealth of consequences into the concrete
and such a law is that of the accumulated ef-
fects of habit.  Born in a village I was able
to take precise cognizance of the  results in
certain families of a habit persisting through
four generations—a century.  Often I was
fortunate enough to question people nearly
one  hundred years of age, who were good
psychologists without knowing it.  I came to
understand  that the only redoubtable com-
bination of  circumstances is  that  the Incor-
ruptible Accountant, of whom we shall speak
later at length,  writes minute by  minute in
the brain our debits and our  credits.
  Struck by the state of moral abandonment
in which  lie those minds, more  and more
numerous, that no longer believe the affairs of
this world are governed by a Providence, I
[29] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
wrote my'' Course In Morals.'' I had no sus-
picion of the tumult to be raised by this little
book, composed in utter good faith.   For
months I struggled amid the chaos of philo-
sophic systems stored in my memory and sev-
eral times I gave up the idea of further effort.
But suddenly the truth revealed itself in the
highest light common to the great philoso-
phers and to superior religions.  I saw that
human life would be in no way above the life
of the beasts of the field if it were not an ef-
fort toward a  spirituality more  and  more
pure. Through this it shares in the only ab-
solute value which is reason. If one does not
admit this truth it is impossible to formulate
social order or the necessity of freedom of
thought and word.   Thought can develop
only through peace and there  is no  sound
peace except .in justice.  Only because of this
higher attainment is human society superior
to the society of bees, ants and beavers.  One
has but to study the fragility of the sociologi-
cal bases of Durkheim to see what a material-
istic conception of society leads to.
  When, as in a lightning flash, we behold a
whole mass of memorized disorganized ideas,
opinions and facts adjust themselves sudden-
[30] 
LOVE OF WORK
ly in harmonious structure, the sense of op-
pression that has lain on our mind vanishes
and gives place to a feeling of ease and de-
light.  Out of chaos has come order and our
feeling of ease and delight is the aftermath
of a decisive victory.  This tonic feeling of
soundness and order does not disappear. For
months the consequences  of  our discovery
kindle new fire in it, and it may be said that
the mind which  attains reward for its labor
in such a plenitude of satisfaction lives in an
air of perpetual holiday.
   To this highest of compensations work adds
others that are more  readily accessible.
        WORK THE MEANS OF FREEDOM
   After  this terrible  war we realize sadly
that ancient slavery has not disappeared. It
is modified into insidious forms, because a
heavy servitude  continues  to  weigh  upon
those who are not born rich.  This servitude
is often  overpowering and the desire for in-
dependence or even mere dignity, which is in
the heart  of every man, is frequently piti-
lessly represt.
   If, after long years of hard thrift, one has
not  gained independence, there  is  a  means
                   [31] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

by  which one may  acquire  its equivalent.
This is by growing in value in one's calling
so that one becomes indispensable, and every-
where there is manifested a reliance on one's
capacities.  Only through work can such a
position of value be attained.  It is impera-
tive therefore that young people realize that
independence is  won  only through  work.
But it is not only material independence that
one gains through work.  Ignorance  is  in
itself a harsh form of slavery.  Uncultivated
minds  find  life   confined and opprest  be-
cause of lack of knowledge, of prejudices, of
trammeled thought on every side.  An ener-
getic man escapes, as by winged flight,  the
fogs and vapors  that smother the hollows of
the  valley.  His refusal to accept things with-
out examination enfranchises him. He recog-
nizes no law for  his thought except the laws
of reason.   He  enters the company  of  the
most noble and  highest of human geniuses.
He  enjoys intimate friendly intercourse with
the  great poets and prose writers,  with  the
philosophers  and artists of all ages.  His re-
lations with them may well be envied by mere
millionaires.   For while  these latter may
have at  their tables  a Rodin, a  Puvis  de
[32] 
LOVE OF WORK
(Jhavannes, a Ravaisson,  only the patient,
toiling student achieves intimate  acquaint-
ance with the great, for time and  persever-
ance are prerequisites of such acquaintance.
Great men do not yield themselves except to
those who meet them half way.  This is why
the talk of great men seems so banal to most
people that come into contact with famous
persons.  The great stand aloof  in  spirit
from the careless and the unknown mob.
  Thus the hard-working student avoids the
duplex prison of time and space—the time of
the present and the environment. He shares
in the liberating thought of men of genius of
antiquity and of recent centuries and of all
countries where thought is alive.  He assimi-
lates above  all the  intellectual substance of
French men of genius, who are closest to our
thoughts and our hearts.
  Through work, then, one gains immense
freedom, because one relieves the  heart and
the mind of what is low, narrow, trammeled,
and confined.  One mingles in the  society of
the best minds and the most chivalrous char-
acters.  What is more,  one is enriched with
the treasures of human art as one discovers
the feeling and intelligence sufficiently broad
[33] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
to sympathetize  at  one and the same time
with the Parthenon and with modern  cathe-
drals, with Sophocles and with Corneille, with
Le  Poussin  and with  Corot  and Puvis  de
Chavannes, with Berlioz and with Bizet and
Debussy.  What a stimulus to  courage for
young people who have a noble nature!
  But it is not only from external oppression
that work liberates us—it frees us also from
bodily  oppression.  Consider for  a moment
how you learned to write.  How toilsome it
was to learn to draw lines up and  down.
And when  your clumsy hand  managed  to
make  them not so badly, you tried to join
them by curved lines.  Little by little, after
many tearful efforts, you learned to write
letters  of the alphabet.  Finally, through the
aid of habit  that which had been difficult be-
came easy and to-day your pen runs across a
sheet  of  paper without any effort of your
mind.  Your mind has been cleared of this
care.  Your hand obeys your will automat-
ically.
  What an admirable extension of your will!
So  also to-day you walk without giving  a
thought to the act of walking and your feet
seem of their own initiative to avoid  stones
[34] 
LOVE OF WORK
and ruts.  The violinist lets his fingers and
his bow run across the strings of his instru-
ment, and with his eyes fixt upon the music,
he is in complete possession of the composi-
tion he is studying.  In the same way, thanks
to the freedom which labor has assured, when
I write this chapter my thought is concen-
trated on the idea I am expounding, and I am
not concerned either with the pen that moves
swiftly  across  the sheets of  paper or with
words that gather from the depths of memory
or with phrases that offer themselves as the
natural mold of thought.  Is it not wonderful
that this assemblage of acts,  each of which
was painfully acquired in the past, leaves me
full  freedom  of mind?  Good  habits are
therefore productive of freedom in that they
reduce to a state of obedience and silent con-
trol the physical powers of the body and the
secondary forces of the intelligence in  order
finally to emancipate the superior energies of
thought.
   Moreover, only through work can we gain
the essential freedom  which is  the freedom
of the  spirit.   The natural  state of  every
child—and how many grown persons remain
children—is a chaotic anarchy of tendencies,
[35] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

inclinations,  and passions.   This  disorder
can be regulated only by and in work.  For
liberty of the spirit is never an act of decision
that commands  the  numerous forces alive
within us.  That would be too good and too
easy.  This freedom presupposes a harmo-
nious cooperation of our tendencies, our feel-
ings, and our passions, and such harmonious
and  ordered action can  be  realized  only
through labor in conformity with our most
profound inclinations.  Thus the soul is like
a ship under sail, which offers its spread of
canvas to many winds and they  all help to
keep the ship in motion.
  As soon  as work ceases, anarchy sets in,
and  the distaste that affects all those who
have made  their fortunes and remain idle, is
a logical result, for it is a general conviction
that idleness opens the way to all vice.  Psy-
chological unity at such a stage can be rea-
lized  only  through some passion, such  as
avarice, alcoholic excitement, or morbid sen-
suality.  From whatever point of view it
may be considered, work is a great benefit.
It is the highest means toward freedom.
[36] 
LOVE OF WORK
       HUMAN VALUE OF COOPERATION
  Work,  moreover, has a  profound signifi-
cance and a very great human value.  Every
effort of the learner is bound up with the
grandeur of  the whole effort of humanity.
It is a fact that even our smallest efforts are
drops of water which go to form the mighty
stream which without  them would  cease to
flow.  Humanity is reaching always toward
a higher and higher spiritual life;  and this
spiritual  life  can  not be  attained  except
through the cooperation of those who work.
This spiritual life, whose flame is captured
by the study of works of genius, is not a gra-
tuitous gift.  It must be earned by assiduous
effort.  The world presents itself before us
as a chaotic mass to be set in order.  Just as
the diamond is encased in a coarse  rock-ma-
terial and we secure the glow and light of the
brilliant  only by careful cutting and  polish-
ing and with the aid of a proper setting, so
also knowledge yields its rays of light only by
force of patient toil.
  It would seem that  coming into  life at a
privileged epoch, we have only to be born, as
noble lords, in order to take possession of
                   [37] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

honors and of fortune. We find at hand a pro-
digious abundance of discoveries, scientific,
literary, artistic and philosophic.  We are
heirs to great wealth.  For us Plato, Aristotle
and Descartes wove their thoughts.  For us
the conscientious artists of the  Middle Ages
built and carved cathedrals and illuminated
sacred books.  For us religious  philosophers
studied the human heart.  For us Galileo,
Pascal, Lavoisier,  Ampere  and  Berthelot
wrung secrets  from nature.
  But  we must be capable  of gathering the
harvest that has ripened for  us and we can
do so only  through knowledge.  Pasteur will
have toiled in vain if we are unable to under-
stand his discoveries.
  The  student should picture himself in his-
tory and imbue his mind with a sense of the
continuity of human effort and of the decisive
action of great men and their  great discov-
eries. He also will cooperate  with the  great
ones of the human race by  his own toil.  To
him also is confided a share in the education
of the public.  One may say  that ever since
the long past ages of geology nature has done
all in her power to set free the spiritual prin-
ciple that flows in the human mind and  which
[38] 
LOVE OF WORK
would seem to impose upon us this command:
"It is your duty to attain the kingdom of the
soul." The highest act of freedom of which we
are capable  is to take  this beautiful task to
heart, to cherish it above all and to make our
poor individual  existence  subordinate  to it.
As I have shown in my *' Course In Morals''
even a youth can understand this view of the
unity of life.  I  desire that  even at the very
beginning the child should be penetrated with
the idea of the grandeur and nobility of work.
As soon as he can read he should be able to
understand  the  immense significance  of the
discovery of the  alphabet and of writing. Be-
fore their discovery man  carried the  fructi-
fying seeds of civilization in  a bag with a hole
in it.  The best thoughts disappeared.   Mem-
ory is so fleeting; oblivion so swift. The art
of writing enables  us  to store in  books the
rich harvests of superior minds.  On these
stores successive generations may draw free-
ly to sow the seeds of knowledge in young
minds, and we are all  still nourished by the
seed of Greece cultivated by those toilers of
the human mind who were called Heraclitus,
Plato, Aristotle  and Epicurus.
  The  discovery of printing, through which
                   [39] 
_______WILL-POWER AND WORK________

it became possible to produce a great number
of copies of a book, effected a revolution in the
world  comparable  to  that which  resulted
from the discovery  of firearms.  Before the
latter discovery feudal castles were practical-
ly impregnable to the common people and a
man in armor was  almost invincible.  Like-
wise the people, to whom we belong, could do
nothing against the oppression of ignorance
before  the discovery of printing.   The sal-
vation  of knowledge was the privilege only of
the smallest minority.  But the printed word
put this salvation within reach of  the very
poorest and set them free from the heaviest
of human bondage,  that of isolation and ig-
norance.
  Even a child can understand how an ele-
mentary theorem of geometry enables us to
calculate the distance of a planet.  Arithmetic,
algebra and finally experimental science have
dowered mankind with an inexpressibly great
increase of freedom and power.
  Let  a child become accustomed to appre-
ciate the benefits of the knowledge he is pain-
fully  acquiring,  let him  suppose  writing,
printing and this or that science  vanished
from the earth and then study with him the
[40] 
LOVE OF WORK
disastrous consequences that must ensue. In
the ordinary objects of which he makes use
let him be shown that they  represent  hun-
dreds of discoveries realized through the ef-
forts  of thousands of workers.  In such a
spirit let him examine everything from the
window-pane that lets  light into his room to
the magneto of an automobile.  Do not let
him learn poetry without  understanding  at
the same time that the majority of men, al-
tho surrounded  by the  splendors  of na-
ture were so preoccupied with getting a live-
lihood, that they would have remained blind
to such splendors if it had not been for the
great poets and great painters, who, gifted
with delicate sensibility and mighty imagina-
tion, discovered the beauties  of nature and
made them accessible to all.
  I trust that at some  future day every text-
book, whether it be an arithmetic or  a gram-
mar, will contain a foreword about the great
services it renders, about  the mistakes, the
patient toil and occasional heroism even,  of
those who have laid the foundations of know-
ledge.   This foreword  should  tell also of the
great discoveries of learning which have been
the reward of these  toilers  in our behalf.
[41] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
Cloistered in the soul of each of us are the
intelligence and virtues of our forebears, our
ancestral  line, and I would have every child
feel sustained  and  urged  ahead  by  the
efforts of these toilers who have bequeathed
him so rich a boon.  I would have him grow
up with a  feeling of respect and gratitude for
all those who have labored to rear civilization
from the Stone Age down to  our own day.
  In the simple falling of a  stone the most
universal  laws  of nature are in action.   So
also in  every object  of  study, even in  the
humblest,  the alphabet, there is implied the
universal  law by which alone society and
progress have been made possible.  That law
is  cooperation  and inter-relation  of united
effort.   Without this cooperation human na-
ture could never have raised itself from the
misery,  ignorance and brutality of the glacial
era to the heights of Plato, Sophocles, Marcus
Aurelius, Descartes and Pascal. The day that
a child learns to have a religious respect for
the work  in which it is his good  fortune to
share, we  may be assured that he will bring
to it a very different ardor from that which
he unwillingly yields  to tasks whose reason
for being  he does not grasp.
[42] 
LOVE OF WORK
FRENCH EFFORT THE SAFEGUARD OF CIVILIZATION

  To these general considerations we venture
to add a  word  of  especial interest to the
youth of  France.   The terrible war  which
took toll of the lives of millions of the  flower
of manhood and dealt humanity a blow that
staggers the imagination, was started by the
German militarist class  because  the  whole
German people had been poisoned by an edu-
cation of pride.   Only a small minority of the
Germans protested,  and among them the au-
thor of " I Accuse''  is remarkable for a mind
not deranged by passion.  But  the  mani-
festo of the ninety-three German intellectuals
proves that  the elite of German intelligence
took on their own conscience the worst lies
of their  murderous government, the atro-
cious  infamies  of their  army, the sacking
of Louvain,  the theft, pillage and' systematic
ruin of towns and of monuments of art.
  No lasting peace is possible as long as this
nation through its superior elements shows it-
self thus incapable of freedom of thought and
of a judicial mind.  All French writers  would
have excoriated* the  bombardment of the Ca-
thedral of Cologne had it been bombarded by
[43] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

French artillery.  Patriotism would not have
blinded the national intelligence to the  bar-
barities that will remain  a shame to  the
German army and its savage commanders.
  This results from the fact that in  France,
to use the phrase of Quinton, intelligence has
become  "an   organ  of  differentiation."
Among our most cultured people intelligence
is freely exercised; but we do not permit it to
be dominated by the tyranny of the passions.
The best minds of France have a common re-
ligion—that of the truth.  Montaigne, Des-
cartes, Malebranche and Pascal have in their
writings propagated the  virtue of becoming
modesty. Our Claude Bernards, our Berthe-
lots,  our Pasteurs  have taught us that real-
ity is a treasure of infinite riches and  that
each of us should gain his share of the truth
through work, mistrust of self and unselfish-
ness.   From them we have learned also the
crass stupidity of  intolerance  and that  it is
a sign not of power but of mental weakness.
It shows that our  reason, incapable of mak-
ing itself respected in ourselves, gives  free
rein  to the Soviets of base  thoughts  such as
pride, sloth and the domineering spirit all of
which tyrannize.
[44] 
LOVE OF WORK
  Therefore a French author should have the
conviction of the lofty dignity of reason.  Stu-
dents who to-morrow will be moral pilots of
the nation, are in duty bound by scrupulous
regard for the truth to work in the French
spirit which alone can extinguish the folly of
national pride.  Authors  in  particular, who
form the real government of a country, not
a government that keeps its subjects down,
but one that appeals: to their souls, should
consider themselves as* missionaries of this
religion  of  the  truth.  They will not  be
posses-t of an authority that strikes  the eye,
nor of an ephemeral brute strength, but of a
lasting and fruitful influence.  Therefore our
students should join to' their resolve to climb
toward a higher spiritual  plane a living re-
spect for that mighty and purely French con-
ception of work which is an indefatigable and
calm pursuit of the truth.   It is a national
heritage to be bequeathed to those who come
after us.
           NO EFFORT IS FRUITLESS
  But it frequently happens that the reasons
which should serve as the best spurs to the
will,  fail of effect  because  one is  deprest
[45] 
_______WILL-POWER AND WORK________

with a  sense  of  discouragement.   For  in-
stance, there is  the  insignificance of one's
actual effort compared to the limitless labor
that must be accomplished if one is to become
a person of knowledge.
  I sit facing my books. Here are my gram-
mars, my  dictionaries, my  text-books  in
French,  Latin, Greek and English, my books
on history, geography and-the sciences. They
form an overpowering mass before my eyes.
I shall never get through them.  What is the
use of trying 1  I never can reach the heights
of the great men of learning, of the authors
whose energy is  at once my admiration and
my despair.
  Weak thoughts such as these are chilling
to the heart. We have all chewed this cud of
bitterness  through long nights* when no  one
was near to comfort us in  our childish dis-
may.  We have all experienced in the loneli-
ness of  our study these moments of melan-
choly helplessness and dejected indifference,
which the  monks call acedia, and which is a
state of abject languor in which all desire, all
hope, all will-power is numb.
  Now  it  is  imperative  that  we have  a
staunch faith, what is more, a moral certitude
[46] 
LOVE OF WORK
that our persistent endeavors  are  equal to
any task and that no effort is fruitless.
  Often  we  envy  the  gift of  expression
and  raciness of style> that  characterize the
speech of certain peasants.  I know work-
men who  have admirable resources of pic-
turesque observation.  Superiority is made
up of the gifts with which intelligent children
are endowed.  Every  intelligent child has in
his knapsack  the baton  of a marshal of
France.  In other words he can reach the top
rank in the career he chooses provided he
have energy and method.  To attain a posi-
tion of authority in one's calling is to have a
happy, successful life; and if one is capable
one necessarily  attains  this position if one
has the courage and patience to work every
day. Socrates makes a charming observation
in the  Memorabilia.  An  Athenian was an-
noyed because he had to make  a  journey to
Olympia.   Said  Socrates:   "What is there
about the road that dismays you ?  Do you not
spend most of the day walking in your house ?
Well, then, you will be walking also when you
leave here, you will stop for dinner, you will
walk again and  then  have your supper and
after that you will take your rest.  Can't you
[47] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

see that in putting together all the walking
you do in five or six days that ycu will easily
walk  from Athens  to  Olympia."  Socrates
also advised him to set out at once so that he
should  not  be  prest  for  time  and might
travel by easier  stages.
  One step  seems nothing when compared
to the height of  Mont Blanc and yet by add-
ing one step to  another we reach the sum-
mit.
  So  also in order to reach the summits of
knowledge there is no  other way than  to do
one's  work hour by hour, day by day, to  the
best of  one's ability.  It is the only way to
reach Olympia:  and the great explorers  are
great  only because day after  day they  faced
the cold of Thibet or the Arctic regions or
the heat and perils of the African jungle.

    FAMOUS MEN HAVE BEEN AS YOU ARE

  We should always  remember  in our mo-
ments* of wavering, that famous men, with
the exception of a very small minority of rare
geniuses, were persons like you and me.  Of-
ten their intellectual faculties were very  un-
equally  distributed, but they had indomitable
confidence in the efficacy of work and in  the
[48] 
LOVE OF WORK
extraordinary results we may obtain even
with limited capacity provided we persevere.
They understood that genius  is the gift of
perseverance in effort.  Everybody succeeds
in doing what he aspires to do if he really
aspires.
  Consider Darwin, a man of mediocre mem-
ory and uncertain health whose great work
'' The Origin of Species'' caused a revolution
in the world of knowledge that is far from
ended.  Spinoza was  afflicted  with tubercu-
losis and died at forty-five.  Pascal was not
robust and he also died young.   Montaigne
•complained of his memory, which really was
poor and said he had "a languid and dull"
mind.  Herbert Spencer could not work an
hour   without  feeling   ill.   Nevertheless
through a wise governance of  their strength
these toiling benefactors of the  race have
left behind  them splendid  achievements.  I
might  fill a  page  with the names of men of
mediocre equipment  who  yet reached  the
forefront of accomplishment  through their
energy and perseverance.
  The truth of the matter  is that the order
of the  mind compares well with the order of
nature.  Violent  action,  earthquakes, vol-
[49] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
canoes, floods  produce only ignoble results,
because it takes time to effect a work of gran-
deur.  Similarly if we work in hurried oc-
casional  spurts  we shall not produce  any
great achievement.  But with simple drops
of water and  time  nature  has sculpted  the
Alps, taken from the chain of Mont Blanc
millions of cubic yards of  rocks with which
she has filled the valleys, pushed back the sea
from Valence to  Saintes-Maries  and  con-
tinues to build up the Camargue by  grains
of sand.
  The same process-  obtains in intellectual
work.  If you study the childhood of men who
have formed the glory of their country, you
will discover that at school and later in col-
lege they were not always at the head of the
class.  The greater number of them were not
particularly noted  by their teachers.  But
when came the day of sudden illumination,
as it came to Malebranche while reading the
"Meditations" of  Descartes,  they  became
eager for an  ordered system of study and
gave  themselves up  to  it heart  and soul.
Generally our  destiny is decided in the years
from eighteen to thirty,  £or how fruitful is
the  silent  solitary  toil,  tho  enthusiastic
[50] 
LOVE OF WORK
and persevering, of which our brain is capable
in the ten years of vigorous youth.  During
these blessed years we make the rich dis-
coveries of which our whole lives are merely
a development.  In this period brilliant col-
leagues outrank you without effort in class
competition but also they scatter their  en-
ergies.  Your first achievement rises  sudden-
ly out  of  silence  and obscurity, as  those
islands formed some yards below the surface
of the sea which are only brought to light
through some terrestrial disturbance.
  Great  men  develop  slowly and  calmly.
They advance patiently.   Mountaineers who
know their mountains are  prepared' to  see
the  hurrying  tourists  soon  brought to a
halt breathless and exhausted.  They them-
selves  move at a slow,  regular  pace.  Su-
perior minds move  in like fashion.  "If I
have made discoveries,"  said Newton, "it is
because I have thought constantly of the sub-
ject under investigation  and have examined
it in all its aspects.  If my researches have
produced useful results, these results are due
to work, to  patient reflection and  study."
Before  the Association of  the Students  of
Paris Duclaux said: "I do not know whether
[51] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
there have ever been any discoveries of gen-
ius made  without effort  and  as it were
through  a sort of divination.  In any case
none such were made by Pasteur and if he is
a discoverer it is because he was silent and
persistent."
       THE INCORRUPTIBLE ACCOUNTANT

  The confidence of great men in the fruit-
fulness of patient  endeavor is due  to the
fact that they know by  intuition there  ex-
ists within themselves, the Incorruptible Ac-
countant and they give him their confidence.
They know that he records with scrupulous
exactness, to our debit or credit, our thoughts,
our feelings, our efforts.  On the debit side
he totals our minor cowardices, our slightest
evasions  of work.  On the credit side he in-
scribes our smallest acts of courage, of in-
itiative, of conscientious toil.  The day will-
power is called upon, this Incorruptible Ac-
countant draws up a balance. You, who have
always avoided effort will find none to your
credit  when  some  important affair  makes
demand on your  energies and you will fail
shamefully.  For  you, however, who have
patiently stored up little acts of energy day
                   [52] 
LOVE OF WORK
by day all is easy, for your savings are there
with interest added.
  The  brain is like  the earth in  that  it
makes  generous return for each seed sown.
Day by day the memory has become richer
and  better  organized.   The attention  has
grown  swifter and stronger.  The judgment
has  become sharpened.  Good habits have
acquired new strength and lend one  another
support.  So  what then is method, if not
healthy habits of thought, habits of strict
order,  of classification, of experimentation,
of a knack of attacking difficulties.  Little by
little, thanks to the capitalization of  acts un-
der the form of active habits, the apprentice
becomes a good journeyman, then a master
worker, and whether the question be of Latin,
mathematics,  history, philosophy, medicine
or law the student becomes a competent man,
then a man of talent, then a master who is
hearkened to  and whose words stimulate a
limitless line of good actions.
  But we must not be in a hurry to reach this
goal. Let us take as our model an insect that
I observed with tireless perseverance make
thirty successive attempts to push a crumb of
food up a slope that lay before its winter hab-
[53] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
itat.  Finally it succeeded in its effort.  Ants
that  carry a morsel larger than they them-
selves, and which causes them to tumble over,
never give up the fight, and I have seen them
triumph only after sixty attempts.  I have
made note that to fell a large plaintain tree it
required of two men  with a cross-saw five
hundred strokes.  If the balance wheel of my
watch went  forward at each oscillation in-
stead of coming back it would cover thirty-six
kilometers in  a day  and travel  round the
world in three years.
  Such reflections as these are comforting  in
our moments of discouragement as we con-
template the vastness of toil involved in ap-
prenticeship to the career of our choice.  But
the most consoling thought of all is to realize
that  if we so will no effort is wasted and that
through the accumulation of small efforts we
accomplish imposing  results.   Students  of
any  age will gain much by feeling the con-
stant presence of the Incorruptible Account-
ant.  If tonight through laziness I do not get
up to verify the exact meaning of a word  in
the dictionary, or for the same cause  do not
consult my grammar,  this defect is recorded
in my brain and to-morrow my every effort
                   [54] 
LOVE OF WORK
will be more difficult.  But on the other hand
if I do not hesitate an instant to ascertain
from the map the exact location of a river or
a mountain, this very small victory over a
slothful impulse is also recorded and to-mor-
row I set to work with an increased energy.
In war victory often hangs on a trifle, as when
the Japanese attacked the Russian  fleet at
Port Arthur.  The Japanese had exhausted
their  ammunition and if the  Russians had
stood fast for  five minutes longer the  Ja-
panese would have retired.  In the diary of
Prince Frederic Charles  (December 4,  1870)
we read: "If Metz had  surrended one day
later, if the Second Army had  arrived  one
day later at the Orleans Forest it would have
been necessary to raise the siege of Paris."
  In the delicate oscillation of motives and
impulses that act upon the will as on a scale
of weights, often a very small matter will de-
cide for victory or for defeat. In general, vic-
tory results from the reserves gathered by
the Incorruptible  Acountant in  the  tireless
accumulation of little acts of daily courage.
The whole past comes to  our aid in the pres-
ent need. But  we must be able to say with
Pierre Pithou:  "I have cared more to do
[55] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

my work well than for honors and  prefer-
ment, for I choose rather to  advance than
to shine."
  What is true of the will is true of the mem-
ory for even stronger reasons.  How often in
the course of my labors have  I not had the
reward  of recalling a thought read some-
where which had been lying dormant in my
memory for twenty years!  How admirable
is this power of the brain never to let any-
thing be lost!   For that matter when I lec-
ture and when I write I make use of  ac-
quisitions  that  date back  fifty years.  This
I owe to the early habit of earnest study.
  When a scholar makes a conscientious ef-
fort to understand the meaning of a phrase
in the translation he is doing, or to follow the
logical  course  of a succession of theorems,
his effort is no different from that of a Mon-
taigne, a Descartes, a Lavoisier, or an Am-
pere.  In  their best moments they  did no
more than does the courageous student who
devotes  himself wholly to his  work.  When
he strives with all his power he does precise-
ly the thing that the greatest men did in or-
der to  become  great, and  they are  in  this
wise his equal.  So also  when the  scholar
[56] 
LOVE OF WORK
writes with correctness and in character true
to himself he is doing only what the greatest
writers  do.   Whenever he  works with  his
whole heart, he is one with the greatest.  The
masters are superior to him in only one point,
namely,  that  they  renewed and repeated
these earnest efforts day after day, week af-
ter week, during years and years, and as the
Incorruptible  Accountant  had recorded  to
their credit these innumerable efforts, they
had  all the  accumulated power resident in
the past, all this intellectual fortune saved
cent by cent.  But in their youth they had no
more than other youths,  and perhaps they
had  even less.  Often they were discouraged
as others are, because they  found the road
long and dreary.  Many who might have been
great men stopt midway in their  climb to
the summit, just  as there are youths to-day,
who tho naturally courageous, at some ill-
fated hour of discouragement  halt  and  are
lost.  Thus it is necessary to add something
each day to the total  of energetic  effort in
order that, without exhausting oneself,  one
quietly  and gradually achieves the long as-
cent to  the top of the mountain from which
stretch  vast horizons.
[57] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

  We must not forget that the Incorruptible
Accountant has not the charity of a guardian
angel.  He is inflexible and deaf  to piteous
entreaty.  He records whatever is to  be re-
corded and is never generous except to those
who are rich in their record of effort.  We
must never forget his presence and have a
care to avoid the error of acting against our
own best interests.
  A failure, a  ne'er-do-well, bitter and en-
vious of mind, is always  a  jailer of himself,
Heautontimoroumenos, as  described  in  the
Latin comedy of Terence, who has stupidly
overburdened his debit account, and has in-
stalled within himself and strengthened day
by  day a  foe  who knows no  mercy.   It is
truer than we think  that our life is the ap-
pointed task  of each of  us, and that it be-
comes only what we make it.  The quality of
the work that we are  able to accomplish is
the most complete verdict on the individual.
He who does not create  is no more than a
shadow, a simple nothing.  To  live is  to
create, therefore to work.
  We may say of work what Montaigne  said
of philosophy:  "It is wrong to picture  it as
                  [58] 
LOVE OF WORK
inaccessible to children, and having a scowl-
ing, forbidding,  and terrible face.  Who has
masked it in this false-face ?  There is noth-
ing gayer, more gallant, more hearty, and, I
had almost said, playful."
[59] 
II
REAL INTELLIGENCE AND PSEUDO-EFFORT

  Because a man is worth what his work is
worth it is necessary to have an exact defini-
tion of the meaning of the word, work,  in
order to distinguish between real and pseudo-
effort and thus recognize the counterfeit that
easily deceives superficial observers.  In the
first of his "Evangels" Emile Zola  wrote:
  '' I beg of you to have faith in work.  Life
means  nothing else and has no other  reason
for being.  Each of us comes into the world
only to do our stint of work  and to disap-
pear.  Youth—youth be earnest and diligent
at work.  Let each and all of you accept some
task which is sufficient to  occupy your life.
It may be the task is very humble, but it will
be none the less useful. Let it be what it will,
as long as it really exists  and it keeps you
going.  When you have it well  in hand it will
fill your life with health and happiness. What
a sound and admirable social organism would
                   [60] 
REAL INTELLIGENCE
that be to which each member contributed his
due share of work. .  .  . What is more I am
convinced that the only faith which can save
us is belief in the efficiency of accomplished
effort."
  But sometime  later Tolstoy protested:
  "Work? To what end.  The manufactur-
ers and sellers of opium, tobacco and brandy,
all  stock exchange gamblers,  all jailers, all
hangmen work; and it is plain that humani-
ty would  only be the gainer  if all workers
ceased to work.   As a matter of fact would
it not be a good thing if the men who are the
most busily occupied allowed themselves  a
moment of respite in order to have time to
reflect and question and examine the utility
of what they are doing?  And what is still
more important should not young people, be-
fore entering the great world of life as they
leave  college, look well  about  them and fol-
low in thought the road they are about to take
in order to know where it will lead them?
How can they know what is the best work to
do if they do not pause before taking action
in order  to question, compare, meditate?"
  Nothing is juster than this remark. There
is work that is useless and is not worth the
[61] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK _______

trouble of performance; and there is work
that is harmful and even pernicious.
  Is there a touchstone by which we may dis-
tinguish the copper from the gold, and true
effort  from  the  false or  spurious?   We
must  have recourse to the  principle which
dominates education as recorded in my vol-
ume " A Course In Morals."  We  read that
"all work is harmful which tends to diminish
in any way the freedom and energy of thought
and to destroy the only condition that makes
them  possible  namely, whatever  is  just."
Thus  one puts away the immense quantity of
harmful effort, which is nothing more than
the exploitation of human stupidity and vice
by the clever and unscrupulous.  We may call
them workers in evil trades, whether engaged
in grafting on their fellows, in purveying
pornographic   or   criminal  literature,  in
shameless party  journalism or in catering
to the passions of the populace  as  politi-
cians,  who thanks to  the facility of their
tongue or speech hope to attain success more
quickly than through honest labor.
  But this question of evil occupation is a
social problem  and we have leisure only to
cast a passing glance into its dark abyss. We
[62] 
REAL INTELLIGENCE
shall rather confine ourselves to an examina-
tion of false intellectual effort so that we may
know how to distinguish it from the true.
  As  has  been  said  of effort  stimulated
through  the fear  of  punishment  and  the
promise  of  reward indolence is a perfidious
and hypocritical passion.  It is  most inge-
nious in evading work.  In point of fact there
is an enormous number of appearances of ef-
fort which in reality are merely  evasions of
effort.
  A child, it has been shown, is so adroit
at  giving the  appearance of working that
through  sheer weariness his teacher resigns
himself to its  trickery.  The conspiracy of
the least possible effort  is universal.  If, as
has been declared, social relations are based
on  conventional lies that lead us  to seem not
to perceive the realities, so  also our educa-
tional  system is  based on a tacit convention
by  which we agree not to notice  that we are
receiving counterfeit money. All that is nec-
essary in order to observe the simulation
of  effort is to enter  a heavy  and languid
study  hall at about six o'clock.  Maps, books,
papers are everywhere to be seen as the seem-
ing evidence of real work. Just  as warships
                    [63] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
loosen a smoke screen to shield themselves
from the enemy so our scholars spread a sim-
ulation of real effort in their written and oral
exercises as  any one knows who has  con-
ducted examinations.  There is an incoher-
ence of thought in a very fog of words and
abstract formulas about subjects of which
they have only the vaguest ideas.  There is a
total absence of profound and earnest effort,
of logic, of organization.
  Even in  our higher  circles  of  education
there  is the same tacit  conspiracy to accept
the seeming for the real labor.  Our univers-
ity libraries are choked with theses on law,
medicine, history, the natural  sciences  and,
alas!  even on philosophy,  which represent
only pseudo-effort, an accumulation of gath-
ered facts without the illuminption of the in-
dividual mind.  They are not worth the paper
they are printed on.

           DEFAMATION  OF WORK
  The history of  the French word for work:
travail, is  very significant.   It comes from
trabs which was  a device of wood used  by
blacksmiths to facilitate the task of shoeing
horses.   Hence there is  involved in the word
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a sense of constraint, strain, fatigue.  So it
happens that in our French language, which
came to us from the lower Latins, something
pertains to the word as a kind of stigma of
slavery.  It is to  remembered also that in
the religions  proceeding from  the  Orient
work is considered as a punishment.
  Ancient thinkers never for a moment stopt
to reflect on  the effects of work.  They did
not understand that it is a healthy condition
of body and mind and a condition  of  all
greatness and ability.
  Socrates, Plato  and the Stoics, who gave
shape  to human thought for  centuries, are
chargeable with having done an immense
wrong to the world by their haughty con-
tempt of work.
  In modern times, Socialist writers, except-
ing Proudhon, blinded by the irksome monot-
ony of industrial toil, have continued to con-
sider work a curse; and vanity, that wretched
servitude of opinion, has led astray some
minds that might  have  reaffirmed the truth.
Idleness, being a mark  of station, the proof
of independence, gained a prestige not at all
deserved if we judge by its disastrous effects
on mind and morals.  The prejudice  against
[65] 
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work is the result of an  age-long tradition
which has never been subjected to searching
criticism.   Yet it  would  have  been at any
time easy to observe that healthy children
run, jump, climb and indulge in other fatigu-
ing efforts which require considerable energy.
If work burdens them it is because their
minds have not been properly  attuned to it
and because they do not know  how to regu-
late their expenditure of energy.  In  every
healthy person the need of action is  primor-
dial.  Games and sports are merely  childish
means to satisfy it.

         COUNTERFEIT PRODUCTIONS
  It is  important to distinguish real work
from the spurious  so  that  it is not held
accountable for counterfeit productions. Our
higher educational  system, which ought to
have maintained at a lofty and clear level the
idea of intellectual effort has not been strong
enough  to stem the  tide  of pseudo-effort.
Many professorial  chairs are  occupied by
mediocrities because of the tacit convention
that the plodding labors  of dull  minds and
the mass of their production equal in value
the product of true intellectual effort.  Le
[66] 
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Dantec  writes  on this point  as follows:
"Study the fifth pair of the thoracic legs of
a lobster.  X. has written a beautiful work on
the fourth pair.  One sets about the task and
studies  all that has been published on the
subject, and this is called covering the bibliog-
raphy of the subject.  At about the end of
two years one has the materials for a thesis
and produces a stout volume of 200 pages,
illustrated   with beautiful  and  expensive
plates.  One is qualified for the doctorate."
Le Dantec adds  that except in the  rare cases
in which we need information about animals
useful or harmful to  mankind in  the strug-
gle for  life, studies in zoology can comport
only a philosophic  interest, that of the origin
and descent of species.  It is because so much
pseudo-effort  is  mistakenly   employed  in
scientific pursuits  that we are accumulating
enormous useless libraries.  In history, also,
are we not deluged with articles, reviews and
books that  are merely lumber?
  It may be that the decline in education can
be attributed to the so-called realistic litera-
ture, which held sway  in France  after the
war of 1870—combined  with the invasion of
German erudition.  To mediocre minds  a
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clearly stated fact has a scientific value.  A
fact may be likened to a chiselled stone which
an architect will use in a building.  The stone
itself is nothing.  The great majority of facts
have  no scientific value.  Only significant
facts have such a value.  The others  encum-
ber the mind  and  scatter the attention. What
is  more, a  fact  is  significant only for  a
thoughtful  and  questioning  mind.   Every
discovery has  inception  in an idea at first
vague  as a presentiment.  For a longer or
shorter period it lies dormant.  Then sud-
denly a fact, often a familiar fact, becomes of
decisive importance.  There flashes the elec-
tric spark which causes  the  combination of
elements that hitherto lay side by side but in-
ert.  Such was the fall of an apple for New-
ton, the swinging of a lamp in the Cathedral
at Pisa for Galileo.  In his admirable " Intro-
duction" Claude  Bernard tells us that every
scientific observation is the answer to a ques-
tion.  Unsound thinkers, who are incapable
of putting a question, never succeed in doing
more than amassing useless facts  because
disorder is useless.  . . .
   The custom  prevails among our universi-
ties of exchanging theses at the charges of the
                   [68] 
_________REAL INTELLIGENCE_________

candidates for the doctorate.  Within a few
years our  university libraries will be  sub-
merged by the rising flood of mediocre  pro-
ductions which add  nothing  to the intellec-
tual capital of the nation.  The time spent in
these  unoriginal compilations would be bet-
ter employed in translating, with full histor-
ical annotation, some valuable work from the
English, the  German, the Italian and other
languages.  Such productions would  enrich
the common fund of intellectual effort; and
also they would be of much higher value than
theses which  are ill reasoned, ill written and
devoid of vigor and individual stamp.

                PRECEDENTS
  Dread of effort is the cause of the exagger-
ated importance of precedents in our courts
and our government.  In his horror  of the
toil  of   initiative,   sheepish  man  never
thoroughly examines anything except at the
ultimate urgency.  He prefers to  waste his
time in seeking a previous decision.  It mat-
ters not whether this previous decision was
determined by some thoughtless  impulsive
person.  He is saved the trouble of thinking
for himself and all he has to do is to follow
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in line.  So it is in the Alps, where the guide
studies the pathway, deliberates and decides.
The others, tied behind him, merely put their
feet in his tracks in the snow.  In the higher
altitudes this work of making the  tracks is
very fatiguing because it requires an uninter-
rupted effort of the attention.  His followers
suffer only physical weariness and climb the
heights in a real torpor of the brain, which,
by the way, is not a disagreeable  sensation.
  In the various branches of government all
work tends toward decisions  to  be made.
Rather than venture a choice and individual
deliberation, feeble minds, which are in the
majority, lie in the trenches of precedent and
it is difficult to dislodge them.  In philosophy
and also in religion they take refuge in some
system and thenceforward they let  others
think for them and are relieved of the effort
of decision.  Whoever questions the  system
becomes a disturber of their personal tran-
quillity—and they were so tranquil!  Must
they now  bestir themselves to think, which
requires effort, time and laborious patience ?
Has this interloper the audacity to  ask them
to examine into something that is wholly con-
tradictory  to  their  convictions?   Does he
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hope they will correct the error so agreeable
to them because it flatters their thoughts and
secret yearnings?  By no means.  He is not
to be tolerated—a plague upon him!
  Next  to  those  prideful persons who are
hurt by having their notions contradicted the
fanatics most to be dreaded are weak-willed
people.  Exasperated because they have been
disturbed in the quiet  security of their  con-
victions they feel that  they are being forced
out again to face  the winds and waves  of a
troubled sea when they had so snugly settled
in port.
   The  fact  without value flourishes  most
rankly in the study of medicine.  From the
beginning  students  incline too much to the
memorization of facts rather than to meth-
ods  of  investigation.    Trousseau  in his
"Clinique Medicale de 1'Hotel Dieu" reports
that the intelligence  becomes more slothful in
proportion  to  the increase of scientific re-
sources.  This is  because the intelligence is
"content to receive and  enjoy and is disin-
clined to create and elaborate."  Even stu-
dents of exceptional aptitude yield to an easy
method of acquisition and "habituating them-
selves to produce nothing, gradually sink into
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a kind of mental inertia."  Their predeces-
sors, not  so well provided with knowledge,
"were always animated  in their work with
the aim of production. .  . . They constantly
exercised  their mental capacity as athletes
exercise their muscles.''  Prospects of gran-
deur and fruitfulness abounded in their view
while you "who have a wealth of means at
your disposal, are spoiled, satiated .  .  . and
knowing only how to receive what is so prodi-
gally offered,  your intelligence chokes with
obesity and dies unproductive."
  In order to understand the absurdity of
this waste of  attention one  has only to ob-
serve a group of medical students in a hos-
pital hurrying from bedside  to bedside  of
a dozen or fifteen patients.
  The  habit of pseudo-effort may have dis-
astrous consequences. In the Revue de Paris
(Nov. 1, 1917) Dr. Jean Fiolle relates that in
1914 our surgeons,  owing to erroneous pre-
conceived ideas, were not supplied with the
proper  equipment  for war  service.   The
means of sterilization were faulty and  at the
front or near  the front it was impossible to
undertake an  aseptic operation.   Pasteur's
ideas in all their clamorous evidence had not
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REAL INTELLIGENCE
succeeded in  destroying  prejudices.   How
many of our young men paid with their lives
for this failure to see things as they actually
are.
  Again, General Fonville states in the Re-
vue de Paris  (June  1, 1916) that too many
of our officers set  forth ignorant of the les-
sons of the Russo-Japanese  War and the
Boer War and with their minds  full of anti-
quated ideas about war.

       NECESSITY OF  REVISED METHODS
  As a result of what we have learned during
the war we should revolutionize our methods
of education so that the cultivation of the in-
telligence be fixt on a sound basis of liberty.
As things have been, initiative was excluded
from our system and we have  all along been
imposing on youthful minds ideas from the
outside  instead of supervising their natural
development in the soul of the young.
  By  overweighted educational curricula we
have made such development  impossible be-
cause it requires time and  consideration of
the personality of the pupil. We have no op-
portunity to rouse independent  energy.  In
truth  we have no  faith in liberty. We con-
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WILL-POWER AND WORK
fuse it with its counterfeit, anarchy.  All pro-
found culture of the intelligence puts us in
touch with the eternal laws of reason.  An-
archists are rhetorical and superstitious peo-
ple who  substitute big words for facts and
believe in a miracle of social  order.  They
refuse to lower their glance to observe the
sad realities of human nature.  If they would
only study the  subject honestly and judge
their  daily conduct without leniency,  they
would see that among mortals as imperfect
as we are a perfect society is impossible. Too
many human beings are still at  a close ap-
proach to the primitive brute as the case of
the Bolsheviks proves.
  Instead  of  having our  gaze  fixt on  an
ideal that can not be realized let us accustom
ourselves to look upon that which is possible.
In place of the culture of a, chimerical im-
agination let us adhere to the culture of the
intelligence, which is different from the mod-
ern product of pseudo-intelligence.  We are
manufacturing cheap imitations of real intel-
ligence.  Many of our scholars possess an ex-
traordinary facility in the use of words. Like
certain  coquettish ladies who  can  afford to
change  their  costume  several  times during
                   [74] 
REAL INTELLIGENCE
the day,  they  have  a great wardrobe of
words  to  clothe a  very meagre supply of
ideas.  An idea for them, we may say, is only
a manikin on which  they drape the  shim-
mering texture of words.  There are  many
persons in France who think they have actu-
ally accomplished something when they have
only spoken pleasingly.

   REAL INTELLIGENCE  THE RECOGNITION  OF
            THINGS AS THEY ARE
  Verbal  facility is merely the counterfeit
of intelligence.  Real intelligence is the com-
prehension of things as they are, of the real-
ity of  things; and  the touchstone by which
we are enabled to identify the genuine  metal
is action.  Errors  are  constantly made in
judging intelligence.  Saint-Simon in his vol-
ume on "  Great Authors," for example, says
of Louis XIV that his desire for greatness
and  power was impelled by a  mind  below
mediocrity but "nevertheless very capable of
forming  itself."    This  capacity  of  form-
ing itself, that is  of  profiting by one's  ex-
perience, is the definition of real intelligence.
The  rest of the portrait Saint-Simon draws
of the  king confirms this statement,  because
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he  credits him with  an accurate mind  and
great tact. That is to say with an exact sense
of the realities.  This sense of the realities
is the substance of real  intelligence.  To be
intelligent is to distinguish clearly what is
and what  is not, what can be done  and what
can not be done, what harmonizes with a  fact
and what  does not.  To be intelligent means
to be able to view a matter as  clearly as we
see  the objects that lie at the bottom of a pool
of transparent water.  This limpid gaze of
the  intelligence presupposes a calm and free
mind.  That is why  it  is  not to  be found
among those who are light-minded, insincere
and over-emotional.  The  slightest emotion
that causes a wrinkle in the countenance of
the  soul disturbs the image of the reality. It
interferes with the delicate action of motives
and causes that operate  in the act of think-
ing.

           THE CASE OF NAPOLEON

  The most instructive case of the derange-
ment  caused by passion  in the  complex  and
fragile mechanism involved in  discernment
of the real is afforded us by one of the might-
iest brains of the nineteenth century and by
                   [76] 
REAL INTELLIGENCE
one of the most transparent and proximate
of realities.  As early as 1809 the vision of
Napoleon lost its keenness.  His pride grew
greater  and  disturbed  the perception of
things as they were.  Napoleon overestimat-
ed his forces and underestimated those of
his adversaries.
  One of his faithful adherents, Decres wrote
of him toward the  end of 1809: "The  Em-
peror is mad, quite mad, and will toss us all,
many as  we are, head over heels and the end
will be a  frightful catastrophe."  The war of
1812  was  an act  of madness because the
Emperor did not properly appraise its  diffi-
culties.    A  profound  analysis  might be
made of that period when in this mighty over-
worked brain began the  degeneration of the
sense of the realities.  A similar study might
be made  of the  obliteration of the sense of
the realities  in a man much less intelligent,
but long  possest of a realistic mind, namely
William II, the criminal instigator of the war
of 1914.   He declared war because  he was
choked up  with illusion.   He counted on
crushing France in a  few weeks.  The Prus-
sian General Staff had long been  convinced
that France  could not withstand  an assault
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by German arms. William II also committed
a great error of judgment about the resistive
power of Belgium and especially of England.
This is a classic example of pseudo-intelli-
gence, because the  conceptions of the mind
did not measure adequately with the realities.
  In  a similar manner  our historians and
politicians, whose  duty  it was to keep the
country advised  and guarded, did not reveal
to us the real Germany but offered a counter-
feit  presentment.   This flattered our  na-
tional  pride  and saved  our administrators
from  the disagreeable  duty of taking vigor-
ous action.
  The pseudo-intelligent dislike to look the
realities in the face because they always de-
mand to be met and require the effort of ad-
justment. When they speak of the real, they
are thinking only of themselves, of their self-
esteem, their ease, their indulgences.  They
do not want to believe that what  is true, is
true.
  On this important point I will cite another
case.   As a danger threatening the scholars
of a certain boarding-school I called the at-
tention of the head master to the fact that
sixty  feet of  gas-pipe ran along the wall of
                   [78] 
REAL INTELLIGENCE
the dormitory to connect with a gas-jet.  It
constituted a constant menace.   Instead of
looking at the fact as a fact he began to de-
fend himself.  The pipe was there before he
came to the school.  He had no  authority to
incur any expense, etc. ...  I was striking
futilely at a mind incapable of  dissociating it-
self from the fact under observation and of
perceiving things objectively.
  Here is a picture  of another pseudo-intel-
ligent: "He judges the acts of his subordin-
ates through  his feelings of the moment,
either  sympathetically or apathetically.  He
can not see objectively anything that bears
upon his personal self.  Errors are adjusted,
whether insignificant or serious, according to
his liking or dislike for the person who made
them.  The services rendered by an employee
are important or unimportant according to
his state  of mind at the time he learns of
them."
       INTELLIGENCE IMPLIES A STRONG
             MORAL EDUCATION

  We  recognize  the unintelligent by their
inability to see a question dissociated from
themselves.  The childish peoples were the
[79] 
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wholly emotional peoples.  Their only logic
was the logic of  feeling, that is to say, the
absence of reason, the refusal to accept ob-
jective reality.  Almost  all Asia is in this
state of mind.  The Greeks were the first to
reason and free themselves from credulous-
ness.  To-day Germany,  blinded  by  the
arrogant folly of the Pan-Germans, has to
the  world's  sorrow  become  an  emotional
nation,  driven by  a  monstrous  ambition.
There can be no  complete  intelligence with-
out a strong moral education.  I must be dis-
interested, accept the truth whatever it means
to me, whatever contrariety  it causes  me,
whatever  it costs me.  The weak flee from
the truth.  They are willing to deceive  them-
selves and in their cowardice prefer a pleas-
ing lie to a disagreeable truth.  This  holds
true in all circumstances of  life.  It  holds
true of the unperceiving man who marries
a slothful flirt ready to  laugh at him when
he  complains that he is being transformed
into a beast of burden.  It holds true of the
mother who  credits her child with qualities
he  does  not  possess  and  seeks  to avoid,
for she sins by her refusal to  look reality in
the face.  Generally the business of seeing
                   [80] 
REAL INTELLIGENCE
things as they really are is a disagreeable
one.  Reality becomes intolerable because it
is always at our door whether we like it  or
not, and shows serene indifference to our in-
clinations,  our  preferences and our affec-
tions.  Suppose we try to avoid facing it?
Perhaps  through some chance happening, a
miracle,  the difficulty before  us will disap-
pear or at least suffer some change.
  Alas, it  neither disappears nor changes.
If we will we may bury our head in the sand
as the ostrich does to avoid sight of danger,
we  may close  our eyes and try to lose it in
a fog of phrases and formulas, but reality
is tenacious and holds its ground.
  We now have come near to the knowledge
of what constitutes true intelligence.  We un-
derstand that  to be able to express the same
idea in ten different ways is no proof of  in-
telligence.  Every feeling that interposes it-
self between the reality and our vision, which
causes us to see yellow as white, or green as
red, diminishes or destroys our intelligence.
To  be intelligent we must be free with that
freedom  specified by Spinoza, which is to ac-
cept with humility of heart and, we may say,
if not with love, at least with tranquil cour-
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age, the reality of things as they are.  Only
such acceptance enables us to look things in
the face and discern them accurately.
  Then we may inaugurate some action qual-
ified to modify  conditions.  If the partial
mother would resolve to recognize the fact
that her son is vicious she would be able to
combat this evil through efficacious methods.
By closing her eyes in her partiality of mind
any miracle she may expect fails to material-
ize, for the logic  of moral realities  as  the
logic  of  physical  realities develops  effects
from causes slowly but with inexorable vigor.
The child is idle and vicious and must be-
come a failure.  Your pride, William of Ger-
many,  prevented you from seeing the truth
and so your might is shattered.  You, people
of France, had half shut your eyes toward
the truth  and  consequently victory has cost
you a  frightful price.

     INSANITY:  THE DISTORTION OF THE
            SENSE OF REALITY
  Among the patients at St. Anne's Hospital
I found that to those suffering from mental
maladies  such  physical ailments  as  head-
aches,  spinal pains and weakness were of
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REAL INTELLIGENCE
slight importance.  This is a characteristic
of the distortion of the sense of the realities.
It is the inability to  see or  understand the
reality as it is  and in consequence the in-
ability to connect action properly with the
reality.   The perception of  every-day  hap-
penings is falsified, and falsified also is the
judgment on men and affairs.  Observe how
this jealous woman is suspicious of the most
innocent comings and goings, how this  anx-
ious  mother imagines  some tragic  circum-
stance as the cause of  a delay that is most
natural and  obvious.  Mental derangement is
the  result of morbid feelings which distort
the perception, the judgment, in a word the
intelligence. All distortion of the intelligence
by feeling is kin to mental  derangement.
  But we denominate as deranged  persons
only those  whose  pathological emotions not
only disturb their vision of the realities, but
also  vitiate  the solid  organism of conscious-
ness formed by the experiences of countless
generations of whom we are the heirs  and
which is known as reason, or technically as
logic. Reason is the toll taken by human intel-
ligence in age-long struggles against nature.
In the beginning belief spread in many absurd
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directions but by degrees  experience closed
all roads  leading to pitfalls.  Millions  and
millions of  mankind have perished in con-
sequence of erroneous belief. In the course
of centuries discipline was  established  and
broad  highways  were mapped out  in  the
magic forest of error and ignorance.  These
highways  are the laws of reason.  A thing
can not be the thing it is and its  opposite,
every effect has a cause,  etc.  So we classify
as insane  only those who are unable to con-
trol their  feelings sufficiently to allow their
intelligence  to subject itself to the laws of
reason.  But it is a question of greater or less
degree.  Through levity or feeble energy few
men  are fully capable  of such control.  The
greater number let themselves be swayed
by waves  of sentiment.  These are persons
of erratic, incoherent, weak-willed and  un-
stable  character, who,  according  to some
alienists constitute a large proportion of hu-
manity.  In the inability to think logically
lies the deepest difference between the intel-
ligent person and the person who is unintelli-
gent.  One may possess wit and be capable of
unexpected  sallies that elicit laughter  such
as to describe a jackass as a rabbit that has
[84] 
REAL INTELLIGENCE
attained full growth. But to the educational
mind, which bears the seal of distinctive in-
telligence, only pseudo-intelligence is recog-
nized in the quickest shallow wit even when it
has at its disposal the most abundantly fur-
nished of verbal wardrobes.
  Real intelligence is the intelligence wholly
attentive to the realities and to  that quintes-
sence of reality which is reason.
  Be witty  when you have a solid and sub-
stantial foundation  of intelligence and then
what you say or write  will have charm. If
the  superficial qualities  do not  rest  on a
granite base, your words  are without value
and your action will  surely be perilous.
          REALITY IN THE CLASSICS
  Our great classics, like  Corneille,  will al-
ways remain young because, like  Antaeus,
they constantly renew their strength  by sup-
porting themselves  on  the realities and be-
cause their  compositions  are  admirable in
truth and  logic. They reflected much, and
diligently studied in themselves the delicate
play of thought and feeling which they em-
bodied in their characters.   On the  other
hand,  romantic  productions, because they
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lack verisimilitude, do not endure.  It is ar-
duous  to witness  a performance of  "Ruy
Bias"  or of "Hernani," despite the splendor
of the verse,  while  a good farce based  on
sound  principles of reason, such as  "The
Imaginary Invalid" plays as tho it was
written only the other day.  Even in fantas-
tic literature as produced by such masters as
Rabelais, Moliere, Cervantes and Swift the
foundation of the work is logic.  They see
things  exactly, coherently and  in strict har-
mony with the laws of reason.  No unruly
passion distorts their judgment  or  the un-
derlying order of the  relations of things.
Their fantasies never sink into absurdity or
incoherence because  clear intelligence  never
loses the sense of truth.

       LEARNING IS NOT INTELLIGENCE

  We understand now that real intelligence
is different from learning.  One may become
very  learned  and   remain   unintelligent.
Among the most unintelligent  people I have
met  were two college professors.   A man
may be a hard worker, a plodder who is bent
double with useless toil and yet never have
measured up  his learning with personal ex-
                   [86] 
REAL INTELLIGENCE
perience.  A mass of encyclopedic informa-
tion has nothing  in  common with real cul-
ture.  To collect facts and put them together
as a player puts  dominoes,  a  six next to a
double six, a five  next to a five, is purely a
mechanical effort that may be wholly devoid
of thought.  The Germans excel at confound-
ing precision with  meticulousness, gravity
with dullness, and they seem to consider the
brain as a barn to be packed chockfull.
  Let us hold fast to the truths we have dis-
covered. To be intelligent is to look reality
in the face and to be inspired by the highest
element of reality—reason.  Only such clear-
sighted gazing on the truth of things permits
of truthful action and the modification of the
reality  by  ideas.   Whatever  distracts our
mind from the double reality,  that outside
and that within us, will tend to stupefy our
intelligence.   "The  natural appeal  of the
soul to the truth,'' which is the attention, may
be disturbed,  distracted,  led astray by pas-
sion, pride, love  or  hate, partizan feeling.
It follows therefore that we can not hold the
truth close to us except through a severe dis-
cipline  of the sensibilities.  This discipline
is the highest form  of  individual liberty.
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No one can enter into the abode of the truth
unless he be a man of character and upright-
ness,  because it is only through this condi-
tion  of self-mastery that one  can become a
free  intelligence.  All others  are slaves to
idleness,  dissipation,  to their  appetites and
to their passions and they are lacking in the
purity of mind  through which we  gain en-
trance to the sanctuary. But this is only a
preliminary to  such admission.

              WHAT ONE KNOWS

  We may find ourselves halted on our march
to the truth by two dangerous enemies within
us. One  is cowardice or indolence in facing
effort; the other is impulsive striving for
the truth which makes irksome any  pro-
longed suspension of judgment and convic-
tion.  Without the twofold energy to perse-
vere in our effort to the end and to refrain
from forming a judgment before confronting
our knowledge  with  external and internal
reality, the truth evades us and our intellect-
ual acquisitions are only pseudo-intelligence.
  For example my knowledge of the metric
system will  never have  any reality until I
have confronted it with facts.  I have a the-
[88] 
REAL INTELLIGENCE
oretic  idea, which  is very precise, of the
length of a kilometer.  From the top of my
native mountains I have often seen stretches
of a hundred kilometers, which are very con-
crete  and real to my mind. I know by fre-
quent muscular experience what is a vertical
height of six hundred meters, of twelve hun-
dred meters, of three thousand meters—but
for lack of actual experience, I do not know
what  is a height of twelve or fifteen meters
and so I make errors in estimating the height
of a monument, of a tree.  Six hundred verti-
cal meters  are  a realized knowledge, fifteen
meters are a verbal, abstract knowledge.
   It is not  so long ago that my knowledge of
a hectare passed from the parrot stage to
that  of  experimental  knowledge,  the  real
knowledge.  A student in mathematics who,
in  accordance  with given figures, makes  a
cardboard  lamp-shade, knows experimental-
ly what a cone  is, while a student in rhetoric
frequently has  only a pseudo-knowledge of
the same thing.
   Similarly, if I take up the  fire-tongs and
burn my fingers, the conductive power of iron
for heat becomes a matter of practical and ex-
perimental knowledge to me, while knowledge
                   [89] 
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of some other things remains in a state  of
limbo, midway between heaven and hell, and
this is called book knowledge.  The latter is
the beginning of knowledge, but  not the real
knowledge.
            THE MORAL DOMAIN

  For a stronger reason moral knowledge
remains abstract and verbal when it is not
confronted with personal experience.  Also
all learning is vain and all inquiry into the re-
flections of others, if it distracts us from the
essential task which is, for example, to com-
pare the statements of a great  author with
our own experience.  Reading that  is done
without <this active effort that no one can  do
for me,  since my experience is original with
me, is only pseudo-effort—the mere business
of memorizing.  If I study the character  of
Pauline in Corneille's tragedy "Polyeucte"
it is necessary that I have the experience of
the calm force which comes to a soul as the
result of the loyal accomplishment of unat-
tractive duty, even if in my case it be only a
disagreeable task to which one gives one-
self with complete devotion. I shall know then
through personal experience that by such  an
                   [90] 
REAL INTELLIGENCE
act the soul receives a something analogous
to what the faithful term "grace," that is
to say an uplift and an ennobling of spirit.
This  experience  must have been  frequent
with so pure and conscientious a genius as
Corneille. We are able thus to understand, by
a kind of transmutation  of experience, how
Pauline who loves Severus, but who, because
she is the wife of Polyeucte maintains an at-
titude  of impeccable righteousness,  is led
by this very fact to a nobility of heart that
renders her capable of a faith purer than that
of the pagan  religion  and elevates her to
heroic heights of the soul.
  Whoever has not experienced comparable
moments of moral energy can not understand
the tragedy of Corneille.
  Let  us consider  Moliere's  farce  "The
Imaginary Invalid.''  To understand the pro-
found reality of this immortal farce we must
unfortunately have suffered such moments of
intellectual depression  which help  make the
fortunes   of  manufacturers  of  miraculous
remedies  and  during which we  hearken to
every encouraging word.   Then we can real-
ize  the  state  of  soul  of  poor Argan  who
was enraged against those who ridiculed con-
[91] 
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sultations and prescriptions and wretched at
being abandoned by his physician.
  "Look within yourself," says Marcus Au-
relius, "for there lies the source of good,
an inexhaustible source provided you draw
upon it continually."  Likewise within  our-
selves lies the source of all moral truth,  pro-
vided we draw upon the realities of human
nature and for this it is enough to feel  one-
self live and to meditate upon one's personal
experience.  I regret deeply that it cost me
years of work to make this discovery which
none of my teachers  made  known  to  me.
Perhaps they did not know of it themselves.
Thus it happens that we may read the noble
pages of Maine de Biran  and of Ravaisson
on "Habit" and fix them in our verbal mem-
ory  without comparing them with our  per-
sonal experience. But continued study within
ourselves of a good habit and a bad habit en-
ables us to know really the tendency  created
by an act repeated and to surprize the  strange
need that springs  up within us, the instiga-
tion, the disquiet and the suffering which re-
sult  from inability to satisfy the need.  For
example, one  who is very fond of smoking
will  look everywhere for a cigar he has  mis-
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REAL INTELLIGENCE
laid and he feels a sense of irritation and irk-
someness if he can not satisfy his tyrannical
habit.
  It has often happened in my classes of phil-
osophy that I found the students were bored
and abstracted over the principles of reason,
a heavy  subject and as far removed  from
every-day life as the subject of the  ring of
Saturn.  I invariably roused my listeners by
showing that these principles  can be under-
stood by a child and that they are implicit in
our simplest acts.  If on entering the room I
should say  that Peter, who is here among us,
is  in  the next  room what  would you  think
of me?  That I am crazy? Nevertheless mil-
lions of human beings have believed and still
believe that at one and the same time one and
the same person can be in  two places.   The
belief in the double presence has been univer-
sal.  We do not believe in it because innum-
erable experiences have implanted in us with
absolute  certitude  the  principle of identity.
If any one to-day were to act as if he believed
otherwise he would be considered of deranged
mind.  So  also there are many of  us who
believe that there is no effect without a  cause
and philosophers hold  the necessity of the
                   [93] 
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principles of  reason as the only objective
reality and as constituting the very founda-
tion of thought common to all thinking beings.
  Everywhere we should recognize that to be
intelligent is to penetrate reality and that
we  may penetrate it only through a kind of
delicate tact,  of sympathy which  develops
from a long kinship with things. Thus it is
that a good physician knows what the suf-
ferings  of his patient are  just as a mother
"has her child's headache."  So we under-
stand things only when we have known them
for a long time.  To be intelligent is to be able
to orientate oneself in the real through the
habit of seeing calmly and lucidly that which
is or exists.
      NECESSITY OF REALITY IN POLITICS

  In politics the need of real intelligence is
urgent.  Consider the demagog who tries to
draw a picture  of the persons from  whom
is to be taken the money he would distribute
under divers forms to his election agents and
his hangers-on?  Were he to succeed, for lack
of clear understanding of economic realities,
he would succeed as in Russia in ruining the
best elements of the nation.  In the eyes of
                   [94] 
REAL INTELLIGENCE
the demagog  the only persons worthy of
consideration are the failures, the good-for-
nothings, the incompetents.  A man who suc-
ceeds by energy and effort as well as severe
prudence is by that very fact held under sus-
picion.
  Our governments, whose primordial duty
should be to take the lantern of Diogenes and
seek out men of intelligence and of character
for responsible posts, have so little time that
they nearly all fail at this the one necessary
task.
  However the  departments of  government
are too often the shrines of outworn tradi-
tions and closed to new realities.  They exist
on " precedents." Deprived of the stimulus
of minds capable of distinguishing  what is
false, decrepit  or dead, from what is prop-
erly alive they very often form  a heavy ob-
stacle to progress.   Thus France has lain
asleep and allowed an enormous part of her
natural resources to be undeveloped.  Com-
pare our antiquated organization of the Min-
istry of Agriculture with the practical  and
energetic  organization of  the same depart-
ment in the United States and  you will be
edified.  A foreign correspondent of  the
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 Paris Temps wrote  (December 2, 1905) of
 Sergiei Witte, the Russian administrator, as
 follows:  "He works from morning till night
 and from night till morning  tirelessly as a
 horse, but in the manner of a functionary or
 a monk  who knows not men and considers
 only words and ideas."  The correspondent
 pokes fun at his confidence "in the curative
 properties of administrative reports."
      HOW TO DISCERN THE BEST MINDS

   If we insist strongly on the distinctive char-
 acter of real intelligence it is only because
 we have  never seen a treatise on this capital
 subject.  Our leaders have no sure means of
 discovering budding talent and they are em-
 barrassed by the great number of pseudo-in-
 telligent individuals produced by our colleges.
 Verbal facility and even eloquence can co-
 exist  with a lack  of  real intelligence.  The
 former gifts are absurdly overvalued.  Who-
 ever is acquainted with our superficial meth-
 ods of education  must know that they do
not tend to help intelligence of an original
sort.
  This is a dangerous state of things because
a nation  can make its future secure only by
                   [96] 
REAL INTELLIGENCE
keeping its most vigorous minds at the fore-
front of affairs.  Rome and Greece declined
rapidly because their incessant foreign wars,
their civil wars,  and  their mass proscrip-
tion,  exile  and  execution  deprived  them
of their choicest  minds  and personalities.
Men of high worth are the prey of many
jealous and hostile persons because they will
not stoop to trickery.  They are accustomed
to look people and facts in the face, are not
presumptuous, meet difficulties and routine
courageously and intelligently  and  call  a
spade a spade.  Under the regime of dema-
gogs they are the first victims  of the  new
order.   Political  massacre is a  convenient
and  expeditious  method  employed by the
party in power or its adversaries to ensure
their silence.  When a sufficient  number of
demagogic parties succeed one another in at-
taining power no man of solid worth remains.
Thus Octavius  allowed Cicero to be  killed.
  Furthermore  in  Rome,  which  had con-
quered the world,  the period elapsed between
the first massacres and the  invasion of the
barbarians, about five hundred years  in ex-
tent, was lost to the development of the hu-
man mind.  In  this  dull time we find only
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rhetoricians and some historians like Tacitus
who were unable  to understand the causes
of  the  decadence.  No great  physician of
genius,  no great philosopher could develop
in such an age.  Progress and  inventiveness
were  lacking also in  military arms  and
strategy.
  In the political field matters  were at their
worst and the people tolerated  as rulers  and
even  applauded  such sinister  madmen as
Nero, Caligula, Commodus and others.  No
new institution came into being in the so-
cial organism.  In a word we observe  the
terrible downfall of a nation that allowed its
choicest  men  to perish and  did nothing to
reestablish itself.
  Is it not true also that in 1919 Russia offers
a spectacle of the terrible peril of extinction
incurred by a nation which is bereft  of its
best citizens?  A long regime of oppression
swept away generation after generation of
the finest Russian minds  and  personalities.
Every Czar  sent the best and bravest young
men of  the country to prison,  to Siberia or
to the gallows.  Of those who  managed to
escape from exile the  greater number  be-
came mentally deranged, because of their  suf-
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REAL INTELLIGENCE
ferings and the anguish of being torn by the
roots from their native heath  whence man
draws the proper nourishment  of  his brain
and  feelings.  Through the constant loss of
her  brainiest  and most  energetic elements
Russia sank into fatal decline.  The day the
corset of steel cracked, by which the nation
was  artificially kept on its feet, it could do
naught else but fall.
  We might add the case of Austria-Hun-
gary in which country a stifling police  re-
gime and a stupid dynasty had extinguished
the last breath of liberty  of mind.  One  re-
sult  has been, as Wickham  Steed  writes in
his 'i The House of Hapsburg,'' that this im-
mense country  has not produced a great
writer or a great savant in a hundred years.
  Even here in France we almost lost status
as an independent nation  in  1914 because a
badly organized  political  regime had  filled
the highest posts with mere  images of men
and had so often cast aside real leaders who
were capable of profiting by the experiences
of the Boer War, the Russo-Japanese War
and  the wars in the Balkans and of putting
the lessons learned there to our practical ad-
vantage.  Happily we  were  able to redeem
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WILL-POWER AND WORK
ourselves in time,—but only at a terrible cost
—by the elimination of hundreds of officers of
pseudo-intelligence.
  Thus it is evident that the ability to dis-
tinguish real from false intelligence is a mat-
ter of life or death for our country.
  True intelligence, is the limpid light of the
attention which penetrates to  the depth of
the realities. Only an exact knowledge of the
realities  permits us to act upon them.  This
knowledge implies a  high degree  of  self-
control, disinterestedness and purity of soul
for as Confucius tells-us, "The high light of
intelligence* presupposes moral perfection."
This is the noblest form of human liberty.
It is very rare also,  for the most of ready
talkers try to substitute the counterfeit for
real intelligence.
  Our dead shall have died in vain if on the
morrow  of  victory  we  do  not introduce
thorough reforms in our systems  of govern-
ment and of education.   True government is
to place  competent, energetic and really in-
telligent men at their post, which is the  front
rank.
  The education of a nation is the forma-
tion  of its people.  They are not formed by
                   [100] 
REAL INTELLIGENCE
our present methods which tend to develop
rhetoricians.   The right sort  of people are
obtained by  developing  observant minds,
wholly respectful  of  facts, that is  to  say,
scientific minds.  They must also have suf-
ficient energy to incorporate in  the realities
their ideas and the hypotheses  suggested and
constantly readapted in the process  of ex-
perience.
[101] 
Ill
             HOW TO WORK

  As Poncelet watched the operation of one
of those large wheels which take up water in
troughs and are propelled by the weight  of
the  water he noticed that much  power was
lost in  transit.  He invented a means  of
avoiding this waste and doubled  the driving
power of the wheels which are known by his
name.
  Whenever I observe any one  engaged  in
studies I am amazed at the vast amount  of
time and energy that goes to waste because of
a false method of work and the ignorance  of
the laws of the mind that may not be violated
with impunity.  When I estimate the time I
myself have lost because I lacked sound meth-
ods based on  certain elementary truths  of
psychology,  I  am grieved and quite  under-
stand  the remark of Solomon Reinach who
confesses in "Cults, Myths and Religions,"
that he ought to have learned in six or seven
[102] 
HOW TO WORK
years what it took him thirty years to learn.
  As I have said I was never advised by my
numerous instructors on the art of working
and  I  think  that  they themselves perhaps
never gave the matter any thought.  Habit
is a  heavy obstacle to progress because re-
peated errors cease to shock us.  We do not
even notice them after a while.  As they had
long been accustomed to the dull routine of
our methods, and were diligent enough in fol-
lowing it, it doubtless never occurred to them
that  it might be made more interesting and
easier.  Even if the thought did suggest itself
they were discouraged by the notion that such
an innovation would be difficult and required
a profound knowledge of psychology.
  We must resolutely clear the decks for ac-
tion, be honest with ourselves  and not per-
suade ourselves that we are working  when
we are  really wasting our time.

            THE VALUE OF  TIME
  Wasting time  is an  irreparable fault.
Time is as it were the substance of life.  In
youth the duration of a life-time seems very
long.  Alas, how soon it shortens; and  one
has a sense of the shortness of life as  early
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WILL-POWER AND WORK
as at thirty years.  Chateaubriand tells us
that on the day he realized he was forty years
old he suffered a stupefying shock.
  It would seem that because we measure
time by clocks and watches it should be iden-
tical with all of us. But this is not the case.
A day seems interminable to an indolent per-
son, and very brief to a busy one.  When they
consider it as a whole it seems void and non-
existent to the indolent person and brimful to
the busy one.  The fact is that time is a frame
which we fill with our thoughts, our feelings,
our experiences.  A very short life, such as
that of a Pascal or a Spinoza, may be rich in
product. A long useless life may be dull and
bare as  a desert.
  The time for work is limited.  If we deduct
from  a lifetime  of sixty years  childhood
years and the time spent in sleep, do we have
thirty years as the remainder?  If we deduct
from these thirty years the time devoted to
dress, to our meals and digestive intervals, to
diseases, indisposition, visits, travels, com-
ings and goings, bootless griefs, periods of
distress, endless gossip, correspondence, va-
cations,  the vast amount of time out of which
we are cheated by people who have nothing
                  [104] 
HOW TO WORK
to do, what a terrible thing it is to realize
that there  remain  for intellectual  effort
scarcely a dozen years!
  Those  who  are  engaged in an absorbing
occupation rarely have any leisure and their
life flows away unnoticed.   The student is
favored in that he  is free. But let him make
an inquiry into his best days. How few are
the hours of veritable intellectual effort.  Let
him analyze one of these energetic hours.  We
can not employ our attention except by sus-
pending respiration, so we must  deduct from
each minute the twenty-eight or thirty sec-
onds required by the act of  breathing.  Add
to this deduction the time required in search-
ing in the dictionary, examining notes, paus-
ing to read unnecessary things, the seconds
used in dipping the pen into the  ink, keeping
an eye on the  fire, our lamp, etc., and we are
bound to admit that the time actually spent
in effort is ridiculously  small:  twenty  min-
utes in an hour in our periods of energy.

            PROPER USE OF TIME
  Nevertheless even  in these short periods
immense labors may  be accomplished  pro-
vided they are not squandered.  Economy of
[105] 
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time is the root principle of all success and
all fame; but we must believe with our whole
soul that nothing is equal to it as exchange of
value.  If we have deep respect for time and
its immeasurable value, we shall always have
sufficient leisure to do what we wish to do if
we  really wish to  do it.  Adolphe Blanqui
wrote in the Revue de Paris (May 1,1916) as
follows:  '' Hard a worker as I have been I
humbly confess that all during my life I have
lost five-sixths of my time.  With the remain-
ing sixth I have succeeded in making brilliant
studies, numerous travels, have followed for
ten years the courses of the faculty of medi-
cine, have become a member of the Institute
and have written various volumes at inter-
vals during my career."
  Energy does not prolong life, but it in-
creases  our productiveness tenfold.  "Life,
if we know how to use it, is long.''  But ordi-
narily we move along without objective, al-
ways  dreaming of new projects and we let
the time slip by without storing up provisions
against  the  day of need.  We are like the
grasshopper in the fable which sang all sum-
mer only to find  itself  without means of
subsistence when winter came.  The  work
[106] 
HOW TO WORK
that can be done by any one in fairly good
health is very considerable, provided real
effort is made.
  Let me state as a principle that there is a
difference between working well and working
long.  Mosso has shown that thirty successive
energetic contractions of a muscle produce a
depletion of force that requires two hours of
rest.  Fifteen contractions require only half
an hour of consecutive rest.  So by distribut-
ing our effort intelligently we can effect sixty
contractions in two hours.  Bacon noted the
results of ill distributed effort when he said:
"It is idling to  spend too much time  at
studies." Time has nothing to do with the
matter.  The important fact is the energy we
bring to bear on our effort. It is essential also
that we do not delude ourselves and think we
are working when we are engaged only in
pseudo--effort,  a kind of active indolence and
resultless occupation.
           ECONOMY OF MINUTES
  This point understood, we must learn  to
economize our time as much as possible.  The
hours, as gold coins, easily take care of them-
                  [107] 
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selves, but we must take care of the pennies,
which are the minutes.
  Great  workers  economize  their  hours.
They do not sleep too much, do  not eat so
they feel heavy and dull after a repast, avoid
visiting and idle correspondence and flee un-
profitable  conversation and everything that
takes their mind off their work.  Yet we may
say that the greatest economy they effect is
the economy of minutes.  In a business that
is not well managed the profits  slip away in
driblets because the losses of each moment
mount up to an astonishing total.  So also
the squandering of minutes reaches an enor-
mous total of hours.
  We shall presently examine a prime cause
of losses of time, which is effort that is left
to chance direction. Now we confine ourselves
to the wastage of minutes, actually during
work.  Persons  in religious  orders keep a
watch on  their thoughts  and on  the  things
they see because they know the Evil One is
constantly on the alert to take advantage of
a lapse in their concentration of  thought.
We may say that he hovers about the workers
on constant watch.  Cessation of effort is
so easy for so many reasons.  When we used
[108] 
HOW TO WORK
quill pens what  an amount of time was ex-
pended in putting them into shape.  Every
pretext is welcomed as an interruption.  If
a fly falls into an inkwell what a lot of time
we spend in mending the matter.  Toppfer
gives an amusing instance of a scholar's pre-
text for interrupting his work. The cat is at
the door of his study meowing to  be let in.
It would be cruel to leave it  out in the cold
hall  and yet  the  scholar knows  that  the
scratching  of his pen on paper is taken by
the cat as a form of amusement. Or, suppose
we have to  look up a word in the dictionary.
We look  not only at one but at half a dozen
words which are near the only one we needed.
If we look into a dictionary with illustrations
we  are  tempted by the  illustrations.  The
fire in the grate  is low.  There  does  not
seem to  be sufficient oil in the  lamp.  We
hear a motor-car stop  in the street and the
engine keeps drumming in our ears.  Who
is coming to the  house? Or, the daily news-
paper is  delivered.  We decide to  glance at
the headlines of the news.  It will take us
only a few minutes. Then also how often our
attention is distracted by the flow of associ-
ated ideas  or reveries awakened by a cer-
tain  word.
[109] 
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  Even the most earnest workers lose a vast
number of minutes under pretexts that they
hypocritically term  plausible.   We all de-
ceive ourselves and tension of mind is so con-
trary to our nature that we deceive ourselves
most ingeniously.
  Just as  a police officer never takes his eyes
off  a prisoner who  is watching for any op-
portunity  to escape so should we be vigilant
lest our attention stray.  The best way is to
have reflected thoroughly on the matter so
that attention is become a habit with us and
we have always in mind this imperative self-
command: "Watch  the minutes!  Have a
care against minor distractions!"
  There is always sufficient time  for those
that know how to make proper use  of it and
through self-discipline one reaches a stage of
practise where never a minute is lost.  Littre
wrote the preface of his great dictionary in
the morning during  the time the maid was
making up his room.   The French Chancellor
Aguesseau had a wife whose hour for dinner
was never strictly determined. Instead of
fretting himself  over her lack of punctuality
he wrote while waiting for dinner and would
show her  the fruits of his labor with the re-
[110] 
HOW TO WORK
mark:  "Behold my hors d'ceuvre!"  Regard
for time was a  distinctive trait of  Charles
Darwin.  He never failed to utilize  a spare
few minutes under the pretext  that it was
hardly worth while to attempt to  do any
work.
  It must not be  thought  that this careful
employment of spare moments and of  quar-
ter hours is fatiguing, for  it is not so  much
intellectual effort  that is involved as indis-
pensable minor duties such as copying, tak-
ing of  notes, re-reading of certain passages,
verification of texts, etc.  This is a work of
preparation comparable to that of a mechanic
who puts his tools  in  order  in his leisure
hours.  It is the useful employment of  one's
time when  not actually engaged in work so
that the  mind does  not stray too far  from
its  main occupation.  Soldiers expect  from
their leaders only  such foresight as  guaran-
tees an attack surely  against avoidable ob-
stacles.  So you should prepare yourself for
the moment of actual work.
  It must be remembered  that the brain is
always at work.  Notice that  woman across
the street  whose  hands  are fluttering all
about her as she gesticulates. Her brain is
[in] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

stirring with  excited  feeling and thought.
The intellectual person has a still more active
brain.   Associations of  ideas,  sensations,
perceptions are continually  moving  across
his brain as swiftly as in the brain of  the ex-
cited woman in the street.  Because of habit
it is no effort to organize this rush of impres-
sions into a harmonious train.  We gradually
come to the point where we not only can think
consecutively of the subject in hand, but also
where we create a certain partiality of mind
that draws upon impressions and ideas rela-
tive to the dominant idea.   This power of
attraction  becomes  as  that  of  the  magnet
which instinctively exerts its power on steel
shavings and takes no note of wood shavings
or scraps of paper.
  This is a natural not a tensive condition of
mind.  We  become accustomed  to think by
preference  of  a  certain book or the chapter
of a book we have kept in mind.  A remark,
a lecture, a word overheard all suggest ideas
to our thought of preoccupation.  So there
is  no wearisomeness about it.  It is  merely
a mental habit, the reward of a slight power
of will which costs us no more effort than is
required  of a  mother to admire  everything
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her child does and to be indifferent to what
is done by a child of her neighbor.  But this
partiality of mind for the preferred objective
is  a necessity of the brain-worker because
only constant thought on his work enables him
to  foresee obstacles  and  mobilize  his  re-
sources for the moments of high pressure of
energy when he  sets his offensive in motion.
  As time is only an empty frame in which
we place our intellectual energy, it is evident
that the most important matter is to adminis-
ter this energy wisely.

            VARIETIES OF ENERGY
  It is necessary, therefore, that the student
take accurate  account of the quantity and
quality  of his  energy  so that it may  be
adapted to methods of work.
  In the first class we find mighty power of
will where energy renews itself rapidly and
seemingly inexhaustibly.  Such was the in-
tellectual energy of Napoleon I, of Alexan-
der Dumas the elder and others.  There  are
certain  persons  of vigorous  energy whose
forces  are but slowly revived. Such a one
was Pascal.  There are those whose energy
revives with moderate promptness or delay.
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In the lowest order are those whose energy
is  quickly expended and  only slowly  re-
covered.
  This classification, made for proper guid-
ance in the use of each one's individual en-
ergy, is only of general value, for the ener-
getic forces of most people undergo  great
fluctuation.  The  moments of full vigor, of
intellectual lucidity  and searching penetra-
tion are  rare  compared to  the moments of
moderate or feeble power.  In one day or in
one  hour the changes in a  person's energy
may be considerable.
  Prudence consists in never losing a single
one of the sacred moments in which the intel-
ligence is at full tide.  It  consists also in
being worthy of such moments by being pre-
pared to make use  of  them.   This is done
by adroit employment of the  countless min-
utes of  energy we  have so that  when  the
great hour comes we are all in  readiness.
We are lacking in nothing to profit by it.  We
can not be distracted, halted or turned from
our  objective.
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          KNOWING ONE'S CAPACITY
  The learner must see himself as he is, be
free  from  presumption,  and avoid  over-
estimation of his  forces or depreciation of
them.  He must estimate them at their just
worth so that he does not require of himself
more than he can  really compass.  But he
must require of himself every effort of which
he is capable.
  Is he endowed with energy that is abundant
and  speedily renewed?  Then  he may,  with-
out fatigue, spend  a 'half hour in intensive
effort, to  be followed  by a short  period of
rest.   He may continue  after this with an
effort of equal or less duration, to be followed
by a rest  period of greater extent.  And so
he may go on for two or three  hours.
  But  in the case of a person  whose energy
is  slow of restoration the effort  periods
should be reduced and the rest periods length-
ened.  Each  one must study himself atten-
tively,  as  he would study his fellow  in a
purely objective manner, just  as on  a  farm
one evaluates the working capacity of a man
or a horse.  To be intelligent in this matter
is to see oneself as one is and to accept the
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verdict.  We must take our natural  allot-
ment of quality and quantity of energy and
utilize it wisely.  Nothing is gained by strain-
ing.  We are what we are and we must make
ourselves yield the best that is in us.
  By wise  management we  may accomplish
much even if our energy is only moderate, be-
cause  one of the essential  elements of suc-
cess is time, which is an identical possession
of us  all.   The prudent use of  this common
power  produces the finest  developments of
human effort.

   FORETHOUGHT ON WHAT IS TO BE DONE
  Because  our energy  is limited we  must
never  squander  it.    Avoid   unnecessary
fatigue.  A great deal of force  is consumed,
it seems, in matters requiring decision, re-
solve  or  initiative implying a choice.  Peo-
ple of feeble will, it is well known, are trou-
bled and hesitant when they have to make a
choice  between two simple  alternatives.  If
you trace a line on the ground and from one
end of it draw two divergent lines and ask a
person of weak will to chose whether he will
advance to  the right or left along one of these
divergent lines he will be incapable of exer-
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HOW TO WORK
cising  the  will-power necessary to make a
choice.  I have often remarked the difficulty
some people evince  in  choosing a chair as
they enter a  reception room.  We are all
weak-willed in various degrees as  some ser-
vants and  workmen  are who move straight
ahead  when they  are  told  exactly what to
do, but who are powerless when required to
choose  from  among  several  alternatives.
Monks, and soldiers  have a  hard life, but it
is free from responsibility and initiative; and
persons of feeble will-power find much com-
fort in not being obliged to  decide for them-
selves. As in all the varieties of energy there
are high and low periods, it  is prudent when
about to draw upon our forces to avoid bur-
dening the will with doubt about a  choice
between alternatives.
  I have frequently observed students about
to set to work and have noticed that they lose
much time in  deciding  on the subject they
will take up. When they do decide  and begin
to study, it is with  reduced energy,  the result
of their hesitation.  I myself have always
made it a rule to decide beforehand on what
I would do, so that when  I sit at my desk I
begin work at  once.  Otherwise I would not
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get to work until after some time had elapsed
in indecision and my effort would not be so
rapid and energetic.
  This is easy to understand.  We know by
exact experience that to imagine a certain act
is possible  only  through the nervous excita-
tion  implied in the performance of this  act.
A more intense  excitation of the nerves in-
creases the speed of performance in such an
act.  To think of performing it is to a degree
the  preparation of performance.  We  get
ready  and  that is the beginning of action
itself.
  This is why the will is easily  set free when
the action required is  simple and  clear,  and
why the working of the will is  difficult when
there is a confusion or a complexity of pro-
ject.  The truth of this statement is proved
by the fact that  any certain action really ac-
complishes itself when we imagine before-
hand the precise procedure to be effected. I
have often remarked that if I wish to rise
very early in the morning, thoughts of ab-
stract duty or of personal honor are of small
use to me.   These abstract reasons have no
effect on my muscles.   But if,  on the other
hand, I fix my attention on the various muscu-
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HOW TO WORK
lar movements I must make in order to get
up the result is very different.  If in thought
I pick up one piece of my attire and then an-
other, and if I visualize my movements in
their habitual automatic order and I  concen-
trate my mental force on each detail  of such
action, it naturally passes into the action it-
self, and I find myself up and in process of
dressing.   In  other words,  I have  crossed
the Rubicon which separates the impotent
wish to do a thing from the actual doing of it.
  Similarly I have remarked a hundred times
that if I undertake  to do something without
having prefigured in detail what I am about
to do I find it very difficult to get under way.
But,  on the contrary, if I consider  before-
hand that this morning I am to study a page
or so  of Seneca's,  that I shall as a prelimi-
nary  take  my dictionary and grammar in
hand  and then read my appointed text cor-
rectly, phrase by phrase, my work is  greatly
lightened and expedited. .  . . By recognizing
in advance the details of an act to  be per-
formed  we avoid at the very beginning of
any work a preliminary fatigue—the  fatigue
of having to choose  between  various possible
approaches to performance.  This fatigue of
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choice  is so real that we lose considerable
time in the mere preparation to do what we
wish and have to do.  Every little detail is a
cause of delay.  We examine the ink-well, our
pen and  occupy our mind with whatsoever
trifle keeps off the moment of decision.  It
is very imprudent to permit this superadded
effort to  interfere  with the business of get-
ting at actual  performance.
  Therefore we must aim to escape the delay
inherent to choice  in the performance of an
action which is easy when it has been thought
out beforehand.  Toward this end we should
give thought this evening to the work we are
to do to-morrow, just as musicians tune their
instruments before beginning to play at a
concert.  But we must not be satisfied with
slack preparation  for  our work.   We must
prefigure it in all its  intricate and  precise
detail.  If  we practise such a circumspect
method of  approach to anything we under-
take, we shall  enter upon the task with ease
and decisiveness of mind.
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HOW TO WORK
      SELECTING THE METHOD OF ACTION
  Under this head we might reiterate what
we have said of method in general.  In brain-
work  as in all effort we may realize an im-
portant economy of time and energy by pre-
vious  reflection on the manner in which any
appointed work is to be performed.  Thus
one avoids "the daily waste of human effort
through  awkwardness, misdirection or in-
capacity.  We learn readily to gage waste of
material,  but we appraise less  easily that
which results from the incompetency or un-
fitness of people.'' We know nothing except
through learning it, not even to walk without
wasting our strength, as Mosso points out in
his "Physical Exercise and Intellectual De-
velopment." We should be  executives of
our brains.  We  may find the sum of 8 in
various ways—by adding 5 + 3 or 4 + 4, and
so on. So also there are divers ways of per-
forming any task and it is wise to have con-
sidered them.  We must never attack a task
impulsively  with the  result that we are quite
ready to drop it when we are in full course
because we find we have approached it from
the wrong angle.  If  I begin to write a chap-
                  [121] 
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ter in one of my books I never set out before
I have planned that chapter. Often as I pro-
ceed I discover miscalculations in my plan
which necessitate an entirely different begin-
ning.  This is unavoidable  because only the
actual working  out of a plan discloses the
imperfections of the preconceived ordering
of our material.  Therefore we must  know
what  we want  to  do  and have in hand  all
memoranda, note-books, clippings and pub-
lished works necessary to our  work,  so that
all the effort of our writing is free from per-
nicious interruptions that will  overwhelm us
if we must always be pausing to find some
needed material.

       VIGOR IN BEGINNING AN EFFORT
  Once we have looked ahead and have seen
all there is to be done, we must get to work.
We must  set out  unafraid and  vigorously
and throw ourselves heart  and soul into the
effort.  "We must enter upon  our task with
confidence and  daring," meeting obstacles
with undismayed resolution and the sureness
of a good swimmer who knows that the waves
which would seem to engulf him only bear
him on their bosom.
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HOW TO WORK
  It has happened to me many times that I
remained for week after week opprest by a
multitude of ideas for a specific work and yet
was unable to put them into organized form.
In the case of my'' Course in Morals,'' for in-
stance, I suddenly perceived the  inanity of
my provisional plan  of the book and in con-
sequence was bogged for a long time in dark-
ness and confusion.  But, because of what I
had learned through previous experiences, I
held on to a calm feeling of certainty within
myself that eventually light would dawn upon
my mood of darkness  and confusion.  The
light really did dawn and suddenly through a
sharp  synthetic arrangement  of  my multi-
tude of confused ideas.
  No resolute effort, loyal in idea, free from
chicanery and impatience, ever ends in com-
plete failure. As our admirable Poussin has
said, "with  time and straw the medlars be-
come ripe.'' By maturity he meant, as Des-
jardins tells us in " Methods of the Classics,''
the discovery of the significant matter in his
subject. Only we must devote ourselves body
and soul to our work. As I have said in my
"Apprenticeship to the Art of Writing," let
us follow the plan of Joan of Arc, who re-
                  [123] 
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lates:  "I said to my men:  'Let us venture
boldly upon the English!' And I went first!"
When you have a problem to solve, attack it
boldly.
  From indoors a rainstorm may seem much
heavier than it is found to be  if  one reso-
lutely goes outdoors.  Indolent persons con-
ceive  an exaggerated notion of difficulties.
They  are like a timid man walking along a
country road at night.  Each clump in the
hedge  seems to hold  a highwayman in  am-
bush.   To the courageous walker a clump of
shrubbery is only shrubbery.  Similarly diffi-
culties of work cease to exist in the observa-
tion of courageous workers.  Their  calm
strength outfaces difficulties.
  Yet even if we are lacking in confidence at
the outset  of our effort,  confidence—which
is a compensation in itself—will come to us
provided that in the depths of our mind we
are not defeatists  and so allow ourselves to
be  undone by  the hypocritical  apology of
discouragement. We must throw every ounce
of will-power into our effort, and then faith
and confidence  will be our portion.
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             CERTAIN COUNSELS

  One thing we must  remember and that is
never to wait till we are "in the mood" in
order to begin our work.  The same rule ap-
plies to  work as to climbing in the Alps. One
fares forth before daylight  amid the icy airs
of the upper valleys and the first moments
after departure are distressing to the half-
awakened man.  But as soon as the heart is
thoroughly aroused and the blood is oxyge-
nated, courage and  eagerness begin to glow
throughout the system.  So we  must never
expect  the impulse to action  from  outside
ourselves.  It is the compensation of our in-
itial efforts.  Action produces happiness and
movement  of mind.   As  Gratry  says  in
"Sources," in order to write we must first
take our pen in hand to write or we shall
never write.  We must begin  somehow  in
order to get ourselves  started,  even if we
have to  reject what was written in this pre-
liminary striving.
  Once  we  are under way we  must work
'' faithfully, conscientiously, perseveringly,''
as Nicole says in his "Essays."  By fidelity
is  meant order—that  is, working always  at
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WILL-POWER AND WORK
the same hours.  Conscientiousness in work
means working with all energy to the best of
our ability.  Perseverance means continuity
of effort on the same task.  We must avoid
inconstancy.
  We must never become hurried and nerv-
ous, especially when we have  much  to  do.
We  must  avoid overwork,  worry,  haste.
Haste always partakes of the feverish.  Our
heart beats too fast as we work and anxiety
spurs us so that our mental equilibrium is
disturbed.  It loses  the steady calm which
alone permits the fine and copious associa-
tion of ideas.  Haste disturbs the critical
spirit, which is clouded in turbulent and im-
pulsive  minds.   In  his "Autobiography"
Herbert  Spencer points  out that  Sir John
Lubbock, for all his numerous and varied oc-
cupations, never  seemed to be  in  a  hurry.
He was always calm and apparently at leis-
ure.  We receive the same impression from
experienced equilibrists, who  at  the most
perilous  moment of  their performance are
calm and in perfect control of their muscles.
On the  other  hand,  beginners  in  the acro-
batic calling are agitated and given to useless
motions that only dissipate their energy. We
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HOW TO WORK
must be tranquil, make haste slowly, not try
to do everything at one stroke—in a word,
we must work "with an ease comparable to
the flowing of oil which is noiseless."  Truth
is the gain of patience  and devotion rather
than of  genius.  When I  am harried and
nervous I pay special attention to the mere
act of writing, the spelling of words, punctua-
tion and other details because the exercise of
the attention on these minute matters induces
a calm in my mind.
           ONE  THING AT A TIME
  It is to be noted, furthermore, that we can
induce calm and ease of mind only if we con-
fine our work to one thing at a time.   The
great secret of learning, Locke tells us,  is to
learn a  little at  a time  and to "make haste
slowly."  DeWitt, a great Dutch statesman,
who was killed in 1672, directed all the affairs
of the Dutch Republic.   Yet he always had
time enough  to attend  dinners and social
gatherings in the  evening.   Once he  was
asked how he managed to accomplish so much
state business and  still find time for social
diversion.  His  answer  to this question is
recorded in "Lord  Chesterfield's Letters to
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His Son," and reads as follows:  "There is
nothing easier, if one does only one thing at
a time and one never puts off till to-morrow
what can be done to-day."  Do what you are
doing, and do it  deliberately without fever-
ishness of mood or supersensitive nicety. As
Sadi,  the great Persian poet, said to the Arab
fabulist Lokman, let us be counselled by the
method of the blind, who never put down a
foot until they are sure there  is solid sub-
stance to put it on. The child who feels his
way about in the new  world all around him
indefatigably recommences a voyage  of dis-
covery each time he meets with an unfamiliar
object.  He  touches it  inquiringly, lifts it to
judge of its weight, bites it, looks at it search-
ingly, listens to hear the sound it gives when
tapped against another object,  and does not
end his examination until he has completely
satisfied his tests arid made full acquaintance
with this novelty.
  On   another occasion  I  have  cited  the
French statesman, Roederer,  who  said of
Napoleon:   "There was never a man who
concentrated so completely on the work in
hand, or who distributed his time  so skilfully
amid  the many things he had to do. No man
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HOW TO WORK
ever was so inflexible in his refusal to engage
in thought or action that was not required of
the  day and the hour. Nor was there ever a
man more  ardent in his  appetite for such
thought and  such action or quicker  in pur-
suit of its accomplishment when the proper
moment  had arrived."   The Abbe Pradt,
Napoleon's Almoner, tells us in his "History
of the Embassy," that "when Napoleon was
occupied with any particular  business, noth-
ing else  existed  for  him.  To him it was a
matter of pursuit from which nothing or no
one could turn him aside.''
  At the outset of my administrative career
I was overwhelmed by the mass of communi-
cations I received regularly.  I would cast a
glance over the  whole lot, then look at one
and another  without making  a decision  on
any.  I soon saw that by such a practise I
was losing a great deal of time and  this dis-
covery began to prey on my nerves.  Pres-
ently my poise reasserted itself and I began
to save time from the day I resolved to open
one  enclosure after another and to reach a
decision  in like order. I  did not take  up a
second communication until  I had settled
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WILL-POWER AND WORK
upon an answer for the first or marked it as a
subject for inquiry.
  This was a reversion to the sound method
of Descartes, who "divided all difficulties he
met in his researches into as many units as
he could and which would be taken up again
in turn to help solve his problem."  So also
Horatius, the adroit Roman warrior, took
care not to attack the three Curiaci at once.
He fought and bested them one  after an-
other.
   This  rule of  doing only one thing at a
time and of doing that  one thing with all
one's soul  is of capital importance in  intel-
lectual effort.   By nature we are impulsive,
unstable, scattering.  The vibrant complexity
of life in cities tends to augment this agitated
state of mind.  We want to do everything at
once and we move too fast. Now, the  great
achievements of humanity have been wrought
through calm and patience, which form as it
were the definition of power.  '' But,'' it will
be objected, " if we are calm, how can we get
ahead?"
   Of what use is it to get ahead, when it is
a  certainty that our enemy,  forgetfulness,
will wrest away from us the ground we have
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HOW TO WORK
gained?  It is an absolute necessity that we
make sure of our position step by step as we
advance.  It must  be strengthened, organ-
ized, in a word put into such shape that it i~
invincible.
  What is more, it is not true that if we do
only one thing at a time and do that thor-
oughly we are not making progress.  On the
contrary this is the one and only way of sure
progress.  It will be  recalled that  I have
previously  spoken  of  Alpine  climbing and
said that those who reach the  top of a peak
do so by slow and steady steps.   Those who
think they can hurry to the  top are soon
halted for want of  breath and must remain
by the way.
          DOING ALL THINGS WELL

  Let us therefore work calmly  and  give to
each detail  of our work the best that is in us.
Time is always an asset in possession of the
person who works.   If each day we sow a
certain  part  of our  field of labor we  shall
reap a rich harvest at the  end of the  year.
Confucius says:  "If there are some  who
study and draw no benefit from  their effort,
let them be  neither discouraged nor  stopt
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WILL-POWER AND WORK
from  studying.  .   .  .  What  others  may
achieve at one attempt, they will achieve in
ten; what others may achieve in a hundred
attempts they will achieve in a  thousand.
Whoever follows  this  rule  of perseverance
conscientiously must necessarily become of
enlightened  mind,  no matter how ignorant
he may be."
  From the  lives of great men we  learn that
they all succeeded in their aims by persever-
ance and by the will-power  they had to con-
centrate  their entire attention on one fact
after  another  in their pursuits and by leav-
ing nothing  undone. When  Faraday was in-
terrogated on the  secret of his  great pro-
ductive  capacity  he  explained  it in  three
words:   "Work, completion of work, publi-
cation."   In the case also of the saints  a
pitch of  high  heroism was  reached through
their  performance,  with unvarying devotion,
of the simplest acts that constitute the warp
and woof of every-day life.
  We must perform all the small details that
go to make up a  complete accomplishment
with scrupulous conscientiousness, with care,
with fervor, with courage.   We shall be sur-
prized then  to see how rapidly we progress
                   [132] 
HOW TO WORK
and what constant new accessions of energy
we gain by these continual little successes of
will-power.  We must never be satisfied with
work ill done—for that is not work, it is worse
than nothing.

            IMAGINARY FATIGUE

  The  point has been reached where a pro-
founder analysis may be made of what goes
on in our consciousness during a work' * offen-
sive."  I have merely touched on this matter,
it will  be recalled, on page  19. We  all know
that on certain days our energy is at high
tension, while on  others it is at low tension.
In other words, we are not "in the mood" for
work.  Neurasthenic people  suffer from a
constant sensation of fatigue, and we are all
neurasthenic at times. I have known neuras-
thenic types who felt incapable of taking even
a short walk  in the mountains.  Yet when
they ventured out  and found that the  inn at
which they expected to spend the night  was
no longer open, they proved themselves equal
to walking for fifteen hours.  Some women
who complain all day of being tired will dance
through a whole evening without the slightest
sign of fatigue.
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WILL-POWER AND WORK
  How are such facts to be explained?  The
truth is that the sensation of fatigue, as also
the sensation of hunger, is often imaginary.
If we pay close attention to the sensation of
imaginary fatigue we shall find that the mite
of reality of which it consists becomes a cen-
ter of organization that increases in force as
it is allowed to abide with us.  Gradually it
dominates our mind and paralyzes our will.
We may cite the fable  of the wood-chopper
who believed himself too utterly tired to walk
another step.  But when danger threatened
he quickly took up his bundle of faggots and
proceeded on his way. We must act likewise
when pseudo-fatigue threatens  us  in our
work.
  The experience of pseudo-fatigue is clearly
noted in mountain  climbing.  A party  of
climbers are  making their way up a rocky
mountain side.  Overhead the broiling sun is
beating down on the close, narrow and monot-
onous gorge.  Every one  is at the point  of
exhaustion because there  is nothing to dis-
tract the mind from the sensation of fatigue.
At last comes what seems to  be  the moment
of a general  surrender to this sensation  of
fatigue.  Suddenly  the  climbers arrive at a
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HOW TO WORK
sharp slope. A new horizon opens on a splen-
did succession of valleys, peaks and glaciers.
The climbers now have to restrain the  will-
power and driving force that sent them up-
ward,  for slopes are dizzy of descent.  At
once the sensation of fatigue vanishes be-
cause one ceases to study it through the mag-
nifying glass of the attention.
  This sensation  of  fatigue was merely  a
suggestive  sensation.  It was a fantom,  a
creation of the imagination.  It had no more
real substance than have the castles we build
in fantasy when gazing at the brilliant flames
of an open fire, or the strange animals whose
shapes children can trace in the clouds. Often
we  are subject to  troublesome physical sen-
sations.  Our digestion  may be disturbed;
certain muscles may be wearied; our circula-
tion may be irregular or we may be suffering
from some  respiratory inconvenience. If we
fix our attention on these admitted disturb-
ances we can conjure an impression of fatigue
and  even of  exhaustion  because we have  a
visceral imagination as fertile in invention as
that of the mind.
  We must not be stopt by imaginary sen-
sations of fatigue.  The indolent and the neu-
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WILL-POWER AND WORK
rasthenic are  frequently partly unbalanced
persons who mistake illusion for truth.  We
are not really tired unless the sensation  of
fatigue  persists after  we have  done some-
thing.  Then only must we come to a pause.
  If we thrust  these fantoms  aside  or,
rather, if we refuse to permit them to be built
up from certain torpid physical suggestions,
and if we deny them our attention, they will
vanish, routed before our contemptuous dis-
dain. They will not attempt to reassert them-
selves except after we have worked long and
hard, and mental suggestion, combined with
the physical protest of our body, too long in-
active, has acquired a high intensity.

  DRAWING ON THE DEEP RESERVES OF ENERGY
  But if we repel them once more, they again
disappear.   Through  such  resistance  the
courageous worker makes an important dis-
covery.  This is, that we have rich reserves
of energy, that are seemingly dormant, but
which when aroused enable us to accomplish
miracles of effort.   Nearly always  we are
fixt at a point  below our highest capacity  of
effort; and almost all of us have acquired the
indolent and pernicious habit of yielding  to
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the hallucination of fatigue once this point of
our capacity looms in view.  We seem to be
unwilling to realize that we possess reserves
of energy much richer than the supply we
are content to use.  Thus it happened in the
tragic shipwreck of the Titanic that many
succumbed to the cold and fatigue.   Many
were  saved  chiefly  through the energy they
could command in  their grim fight to live.
During the  war countless cases  occurred
which prove my point. . .  .
  We should say to ourselves that the feeling
of weakness, of fatigue, of powerlessness, of
the impossibility of doing  a thing, is only a
form  of neurasthenia.  There is but  one effi-
cacious treatment for this mental illness; and
that is, that the  sick person acquire, through
acts of will-power, a knowledge of his actual
energy.  Every  exercise of will-power, how-
ever small, is tonic in effect.  To rise and con-
sult the atlas for the location of a place men-
tioned on the page one is reading is  such an
act, to verify the meaning of a word by refer-
ence to the dictionary, and a thousand other
minor acts day by day strengthen the will so
that little by little we become masters  of our-
selves and also little by little we gain confi-
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dence in our energy.  We must never agree
to an underestimation of our  capacity  for
work.  People who live confined lives of lan-
guor and depression, breathe only with part
of their lungs.  The part of the  lungs that
is not  called into  use  becomes flat  and
shrunken;  but energetic  exercise fills  out
these shrunken  portions  of  the  lungs  and
fills  them  with  life's  breath.  So also  an
anemic will engages  only a small portion of
the energy of the mind. The remaining por-
tion  shrinks.  Therefore we must  always
work with full command  of  our  forces and
not be too attentive to the impositions of  our
indocile and slothful  physical frame, with its
suggestions of shirking and delay.   Above all,
we must shun condonation  of the spirit of
indolence, which  is both ingenious  and subtle.
Indolent people  love to prate about the ter-
rible consequences of overwork.
           ILLUSORY EXHAUSTION
  We do not believe  in real exhaustion from
overwork, for the simple reason  that work
is impossible  when one is fatigued.  Over-
work, as it is  called, results  from dead and
inert effort, which for hours leaves the body
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HOW TO WORK
stagnant in  the  vitiated or  stifling atmo-
sphere of a study or an office.  Real work is
far from being the cause of fatigue in these
unhealthy hygienic conditions, for they per-
mit only of effort that is languid and half-
alive.  I can offer in instance the fact that
on  entering study halls in  our educational
institutions in the midst of an evening session
I am always  choked with the bad air of the
place.  The same experience is  recorded of
many business offices, where the employees
work with  badly oxygenated blood in a tem-
perature and air suitable for  the  hatching
of silkworms.
  Another  cause of exhaustion which can not
be excessively condemned is traceable to the
ruinously vicious habit of too sedentary and
moping a  life.  One hates  to  think of the
hopeless wrecks who waste all their energy
in idly sitting and dreaming.   Especially is
this true in the growing years, and the prac-
tise leaves  the adolescent in a state of  least
resistance.
  A third, and  a very important  cause of
exhaustion is depressing thought.  If we are
preparing for an examination in any subject,
what disquiet, what feverish haste we suffer.
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Then, moreover, there is the  exhaustion  of
working under superiors of captious mind
who have no eye except  to find fault.  It is
the blemish of many of  our administrative
departments that the heads of them have a
purely police notion of their functions.  In-
stead of considering their subordinates, even
the most conscientious, as co-workers to be
resolutely  upheld,  they  seek only to pick
flaws in them and set them down—and  of
course to the detriment of the service.  Ac-
cording to Dr.  Charles  Burlureaux  in  his
"Treatise  on   Practical  Psychotherapy,"
many illnesses may be traced to this source.
  Those who work through  pride, through
vanity, and are devoured by hate and envy,
are deprived of the joys that sustain those
who are faithful to the  truth.  Disappoint-
ments, failures, shocks  to self-esteem are
often the cause  of exhaustion, but this  ex-
haustion can not be charged  against work.
As  I have said in my "Course  in Morals"
they spring from the mediocrity of a soul in-
toxicated by false sentiment.
  Often I have asked young people, who com-
plained of exhaustion, to  let me see the work
they had done and  I have always found, as I
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HOW TO WORK
have found in examining my own labors when
I felt fatigued, that their work was limited in
quantity and poor in quality.  The sensation
they undergo is one that makes any further
effort seem impossible; and  it is often  ac-
companied by a feeling of general powerless-
ness, which vanishes- if one  keeps on per-
severingly.  It may even happen that we feel
a  certain concern, which, when  analysed,
seems to proceed from some disturbance of
the stomach or of the circulatory  system.
And so we come to the point of discovery that
there is no intellectual exhaustion,  but a
physical one.  In  my own  case  I have found
that all these obstacles, which twist them-
selves into a general feeling of inability to
work, disappear if I take a short walk in the
open air.  This proves that the difficulty lies
in the  irregular  operation of  our  physical
machinery.
  To sum up,  it may be said that the  brain
is a high potentate incapable of exhaustion.
If we  consider a person  who is dying of
starvation, we find that it attacks the fatty
and muscular  substances in the body in the
diminishing  order  of  their  importance.
When death comes, the brain is found to be
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of the same weight as in life.  So therefore
the brain is not an organ which permits  it-
self to be exhausted.  The organ which mostly
exhausts itself is the stomach; and this is a
very serious matter, for when the stomach
is worn out all  the other organs  are  en-
dangered.
    ONLY SHORT WORK PERIODS NECESSARY
  A rule to which there are few exceptions
is this: Five  hours are enough  for steady
work.  Carlyle, who was a very hard worker,
refers  often to this  time limit as the  maxi-
mum.   In  a letter to  his wife, Jane Welsh
Carlyle, he wrote: "I do not believe that any
man of letters ever gave the fifth part of his
time or of  his attention to literature.  Think
of what one could accomplish in forty years
of work on this basis, if the time were well
employed."  The fifth part of twenty-four
hours, it should be remembered, is less than
five hours.  "Devote only  four hours  a day
to serious effort," he wrote on another occa-
sion, " in a spirit of faithful, inflexible, single-
minded  devotion—and  your  success will
greatly exceed your  expectations."  My per-
sonal conviction is that few famous authors
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HOW TO WORK
attain to this  daily total of working hours.
But we must not, on the other hand, attempt
to exceed it.  By working three hours a day
we may produce  an enormous output.  Zola
never worked  more than three hours a day.
It is of himself that  he  is talking when he
sets down the  following in his novel  entitled
"Work."  "He was never able to give more
time to  the  task.   His  only  assets were
his will-power, his tenacity, the inspiration of
the work in hand, to  which  he  gave  himself
with all  the intrepidity  of  his mind. .  .  .
He aimed always at the  same objective,  un-
discouraged, unwearied, sustained by the en-
during and  aggressive faith that lifts moun-
tains.  How shall we  gauge  the vast  heap of
production  that we can  pile up if we work
only two hours  a  day  with decisiveness."
Coleridge believed that three hours  of work
each day was  adequate for the production of
great  works   in  literature.   The  famous
painter,  Harpignies,  required of  himself
three hours of regular work, and then  took
his way into the fields to make sketches.  In
Praeterita,  John Ruskin goes  so  far as to
recommend six hours  of work daily.
   But it is  to be noted that excessive appli-
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cation tends to blur the visual faculties, not
only in  the physical, but also in the  figura-
tive sense, because it destroys the freshness
and originality of the sense of impression.
More important still,  excessive  application
destroys health, which is the source of energy.
American life, which tends to monomania in
work, is preposterous.  It is better to work
in tranquil activity throughout  a long  life
than to  overwork oneself through the course
of a few years.
  In his book "America at Work," Sir John
Foster Fraser relates that he visited a great
business organization in Philadelphia, which
was  famed for  its  enormous  speed  and
capacity of output.  He asked the head of the
establishment the following question: "What
becomes of your older men?   I have not seen
a single grey-head in the whole place.  Where
are your veteran workers?"  The American
manufacturer  made no reply, but when Sir
John  Foster Fraser insisted on having an
answer, he tendered  his open  cigar-case
and said:  "Have a cigar, and while we're
smoking, we'll go out and visit the cemetery."
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HOW TO WORK
        HOW  TO LIMIT ONE'S EFFORT
  We must use the force allotted to us with
reasonableness—and by that I mean we must
never do anything that impoverishes ever so
slightly our capacity of  energy for the mor-
row. Moreover, as we work productively only
when we work happily, we must above  all
things take care of our health and work only
so many hours as our health permits.  This
number of hours varies  according to the na-
ture and amount of one's energy.  How, then,
are we to know whether we do or  do not ex-
ceed our limit of energy.  Judging from my
own experience the one and only dependable
index is the repercussion of our effort during
the hours of sleep.  If after a day's work our
sleep is restful and  restorative, then  our
work has not eaten in upon our  capital of
energy, but has only expended that sum of it
duly provided for such purpose each day by
nourishment and rest.  But if, on the other
hand, our sleep is  fretful and does not suf-
ficiently serve to restore our strength com-
pletely, this is proof that we have exceeded
the day's limit of energy for working.  We
have drawn upon our capital  and must re-
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WILL-POWER AND WORK
place what we have drawn upon by adequate
rest. As I have said, the nature of our sleep
is the infallible index of the limit of working
hours, and I  myself have never ventured to
consider disturbed sleep as less than a warn-
ing.  It is just as important a warning as is
the alarm whistle  that startles the  engineer
when his boiler is near explosion.
  To be sure, nervous exhaustion may result
from intemperance in  other  matters than
work.  An over-abundant dinner may cause
a night of fitful sleeping; but in the life of
one who is regular and moderate  in  habits
it is very easy to ascertain the exact causes
of disturbed  sleep.

         PROPER DISPOSAL OF ENERGY
  As the amount of our energy is limited we
must administer its distribution thriftily. A
young man   who  aims  to accomplish some
great work must  know  how to conserve his
energy against all attractions that may tempt
him to scatter and waste it.  He must choose
whether he will be a mediocrity and live an
easy and insignificant life, or whether he will
accomplish the work that is the goal of his
desire.  He must thrust aside all temptations
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HOW TO WORK
to dissipate his energy and it is to be remem-
bered they are without  number.  I mention,
for instance, long idling away of hours among
friends, the theaters, dinners, political and
social  gatherings,  in  particular,  profitless
reading, and all that is included in Emerson's
term "inferior duties."
  Yet I do not counsel  any one to flee from
the world and take refuge  in a desert, tho
it is not to be  denied  that solitude is the
great source of inspiration.  If all the heroes
of human thought came into being in poverty,
it is not because poverty itself possesses any
miraculous productive  power,  but  because
nothing so thoroughly isolates one as poverty.
Because of the limits imposed by want of this
and that comfort and convenience in poverty,
the mind is held within  barriers that protect
it against the distractions of worldly contacts
and  amusements.   Poverty  helps  young
people to concentrate.
  Am I proposing a repellently austere ideal
of living?  By no means.  All I urge is that
we avoid  wastage  and  scattering of effort.
All that tends to proper relaxation after our
work  is  done  is   commendable;   but  all
pleasures  that exhaust  instead of  adding  to
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WILL-POWER AND WORK
our energy are to be shunned.  Grossness in
eating or drinking, long evenings spent in a
close  atmosphere, and all sexual excesses,
which are  ruinous  to the  brain, are to be
avoided.  I may interpose that such pleasures
of the senses as I have enumerated seem so
base compared to the deep-drawn exhilara-
tion experienced by those who do creative
work, that  it is no more difficult for them to
renounce the baser enjoyments  than it is for
a grown-up girl to stop  playing with  dolls.

        THE TIME FOR WORK IS SHORT
  Nevertheless, it must be remembered, that
we have learned of the necessity for moder-
ation in work.  If people tell you they work
ten or fifteen hours a day ask them to show
the results of their effort.  You will dis-
cover that, as in the case of so many  office-
holders,  their time is  spent  in handling
innumerable insignificant trifles and that the
sum of real accomplishment is very small.
What they call work is only too often inaction
laboriously occupied.
   As the  duration of energetic effort ia
limited, the intelligent worker  will go  about
his task as  railroad men arrange  for the
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HOW TO WORK
passage of a fast express, namely, by clearing
the track of all obstacles.  He will take mea-
sures to clear all obstacles out of the way of
his achievement so that the precious moments
of his creative inspiration are not dissipated
by mischievous and wasteful distractions.
  A tentative schedule of the small number
of hours needed for intellectual work may be
set down as follows: For those of abundant
energy, four or five hours per day; for those
of energetic force estimated below the aver-
age, two or three hours per day; for those of
ordinary energetic  force, one or two hours
per day. It is for each of us to study himself
honestly and without conceit in order to be
able to appraise the duration of the periods
of real energy.  Then we must organize  our
life so that everything is  coordinated with
and subject to the time of our full intellectual
power.
  On the  point of the duration  period of
maximum energy, let us  consider how many
hours are lost perforce through ill health, oc-
casions of mourning, family celebrations and
a thousand  other inevitable  distractions of
social life.  We shall be amazed at the small
proportion of time the greatest workers have
                  [149] 
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given to their  tasks.  It should be an  en-
couraging  thought to young persons that
they may become  one of the lights of their
generation by working only  a limited num-
ber of hours, provided they work during these
hours with all the energy at their command.

          PREPAREDNESS FOR WORK
  Work is impossible if one is not prepared
to work.  Thus, before I wrote this chapter,
I had  to  read  thousands and thousands of
pages, take note in my  reading of all that
pertained to my work, question authors on
their methods of work, reflect on my own ex-
perience as a writer, compare my researches
with my experience, in order to sift out  the
errors and deceits of the vain, either of those
who wish to astonish one or of those who  are
incapable of correct observation.  Then came
the need of classifying my discoveries in such
order that the  mass result would be  an  aid
and not an  encumbrance  to me.  But  the
greater proportion of reading and research
is not work but a  kind of clerical task.   Say
for example, I read the 800 pages of Carlyle's
"Letters  to Jane Welsh  Carlyle."  I mark
with a  pencil such passages as  bear  on my
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HOW TO WORK
subject,  then  re-read these  passages  and
select from them happy expressions and pro-
found  reflections, and finally classify these
notes in intelligent array. All this is a cleri-
cal effort that is easily accomplished and
might in case  of necessity be entrusted to a
secretary.
  But  this so-called clerical effort must  be
performed.  It were absurd to  attempt  to
write on any subject without having acquain-
tance with the thoughts on such a subject of
great minds  in all  ages.  Such  a  venture
would be characterized as an unheard of pre-
sumption by all who realize  to what a great
degree the discovery of truth is the result of
collective effort.  But  once we are prepared
on our subject and have  studied it from  all
angles, we must thenceforth think for our-
selves with  a  confidence  in ourselves that  is
sound and resolute.  Thus  we see that the
essential fact  in the method  of mental effort
as in the art of war is preparedness in every-
thing.   Men  are  clothed,  fed  and  armed.
Pending an attack enemy positions are bom-
barded with  shells; and at the appointed
moment, with no further  thought of the con-
sequences of  the action,  our forces must go
                   [151] 
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forward  in  furious  determination,  without
losing a minute, cost what it may, and with
not a glance behind.
      ACTUAL AND FANCIED PREPARATION
  The preparations we make for work, such
as various reading, researches, notes and the
classification of them can be accomplished at
slight expense of energy.  It follows there-
fore that we may  give up too much time to
this function. Nietzsche estimates that the av-
erage philologist consults about  200 volumes
a  day.  Naturally this unfortunate  person
loses all capacity to think for himself. Weak
and aimless  toilers confuse such indolent sort
of effort with real work.   They imagine that
in gathering a multitude of notes  they  are
working.  They are not working, but idnng
in fancied preparation.  Such effort is so far
from being real work that the facts they  col-
lect, out of  which so many books are com-
pounded,  are wholly  useless,   because  the
majority of their facts have no value.  Claude
Bernard has  told us  that an  observation
worthy of the name is always the answer to
a question,  which  is either stated or forth-
coming.  Only significant  facts are  of  im-
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HOW TO WORK
portance; and the only facts that are signifi-
cant or have meaning are those which make
reply to some question.  A fact shows us no
new light unless it is illumined with a thought.
If a  fact be  not an organic element of a
thought it is of no purpose.  Piled up with a
lot of similar facts it helps to form a heap
of useless lumber.   For various reasons I
do not seek my *' facts'' in works of secondary
standing.  First of all, because as I have said
they are not properly presented.  Like dia-
monds facts must be cut and polished so that
they  diffuse  the  glow of thought  and this
process demands the skill of finely tempered
judgment,  which is  far  from being  an or-
dinary  quality.  Only fine steel will  take a
fine temper, because  if  the metal be not
cleansed of all dross, by which I mean to say,
if the judgment be  not purified of passion
and feeling, it will very easily become par-
tizan.  Minds of mediocre quality are in-
capable of this purity of  judgment, for in
them ideas  are alloyed with vanity,  rancor
and prejudice.
   Thus, by way of instance,  I may mention
that in  the sciences Cuvier, whose mind was
dazzled  with pride  consequent upon the
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WILL-POWER AND WORK
honors he had received, was incapable of un-
derstanding the grandeur of the conceptions
of Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire.  Often it happens
that a great man will  decline  from his high
mental  stature at  the end of his career.
Napoleon is another example of this phenom-
enon, for he was  defeated at Waterloo  by
accepting battle when  he ought to have re-
treated, as Joffre, unblinded by pride, would
have done.
  Another reason why we should not seek
our facts among mediocre authorities is that
with the instinctive curiosity of collectors of
oddities  they  seize upon picturesque  facts.
These are quite plain to be seen, but generally
are of no influential weight.  On the contrary,
essential facts, causes  of long series of con-
sequences,  do  not  thrust themselves on our
sight.  Only the penetrative eye of the great
mind can discern them.
  Thus, for example, you  will seek in vain
among historians  for  the  cause of the de-
cadence  of  the Roman Empire and of the
process through which it fell without an in-
vention to show in arms, in tactics, in litera-
ture, in the  arts, in medicine, in the sciences.
This is because progress is achieved only by
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HOW  TO WORK
resourceful and energetic men.  In the con-
flicts and bloody proscriptions of the Gracchi,
of Marius, Cinna,  Scylla, Caesar and Pom-
pey, of the Triumvirs and Octavius, all the
worthy and courageous men of character had
been killed off.
  I never found a plausible  explanation of
the  European  invasion by  the barbarian
hordes until I read in the works of Kropotkin
about the progressive drying-up of the earth;
a process already completed in the section of
Asia  which the barbarians were forced to
abandon.
  Only minds  of  high  value  can recognize
facts of high value. Ordinary minds accumu-
late enormous quantities of facts of no impor-
tance. Important facts are not numerous and
one of the ordeals of the scholarly man is that
he must spend  so much time in searching the
productions of pseudo-effort, whether books
or reviews, for a few ounces of the real gold
of well-founded observation and profound in-
terpretation. .  .  . It  is  as  with the gold-
seekers in the torrents of the Alps who wash
tons of sand to secure a small amount of the
precious metal.  In such occupation countless
hours are spent delving in  productions  of
                   [155] 
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pseudo-effort by dull and laborious learned
men who can not tell the true from the false.

             THE SACRED HOURS
  We must not delude ourselves and must keep
ever clear and sharply defined the capital dis-
tinction between pseudo-effort and the pure
energy  of real effort.   Let us learn  to or-
ganize our life so that everything is subor-
dinated to  the  work  in hand  during the
several hours of intense intellectual energy.
  To have  a clear understanding of  this
reality  simplifies all other questions.   It is
enough if we never lose  an instant of our
propitious moments when the mind is at its
clearest and most  vigorous.   The  problem
whether it is better to work in the  morning
or in the  evening is of no importance.  He
who wishes  to learn, provided he can choose
his own time, will select for his work the in-
terval when his bodily energy is habitually
less sluggish, for example, from nine a.m. till
noon or from four till seven p.m.  Whoever
is occupied during the  day will, if he is wise,
place his store of sacred hours very early in
the  morning.  In his  "Introduction to the
Devout Life" St. Francis de Sales recom-
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HOW TO WORK
mends the early morning as the most fruitful
and most precious time.  It is the most agree-
able period, the calmest and the least subject
to interruption.  The very birds,  he says,
seem to invite one to labor.
  Some physicians  are of the  same opinion
as Saint Francis  on this point. But persons
of neurasthenic disposition feel  a sense of
fatigue in the morning. This is a distressing
hallucination, which can be banished by  sin-
cere endeavor. I have always found it  ser-
viceable to fix my three sacred hours before
the incursion of my professional obligations
in each day's round of duties.  Incidentally
I note the curious fact that I rise very early
in winter with greater ease than in summer,
because in winter the silence  and my sleep
are more profound.
  But we must not fix any inalterable work-
ing periods at the same hours for all seasons,
because no will-power is  strong enough to
conform to such a system unchangingly.  The
essential thing is to place the sacred hours in
each day at the most suitable interval, when
all the circumstances  of  our regular course
of life converge to our aim. It is not the habit
of a particular time that we must  acquire, but
                   [157] 
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the habit  of  a particular effort.  The  only
actually bad habit is that of working at night,
when the blood is laden with absorbed toxins
which are eliminated during sleep.
  We must bring to our work a free and will-
ing devotion, not the forced effort of a con-
vict toiler. Even if we essay a great under-
taking, we must not brutalize ourselves, but
must treat ourselves  humanely and gener-
ously.
  Once we are fully resolved to devote our-
selves with heart and soul to a certain work
for two, three or four hours, the thing of
chief importance is to yield ourselves entirely
to such effort at the  properly selected mo-
ment.  Attendant and incidental matters are
easily disposed of at any time.
  Often when  I have  slept well I  do my
special work  from five to  eight in the morn-
ing.  I have no fixt rule for such procedure,
for often  work from nine till noon,  or from
five to seven in the evening, is just as good as
that done very early in the morning.  The dif-
ficulty during these later  hours is to guard
oneself from interruptions.
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HOW TO WORK
            IMPORTANCE OF HEALTH

  Among other things, we must not forget
that, as Herbert Spencer says in his "Auto-
biography,"  the mind is seated as deep as
the  viscera.    Consequently  the first  pre-
liminary of  success  is  good health, which
implies  certain conditions and among these
are  nourishing,  substantial,  but not heavy
food.*  Secondly, we must have moderate but
sufficient exercise in the open air and in sun-
light ; thirdly, we must have all-healing sleep,
and then we must be happy.   Happiness  is
the best of all tonics.
  Sleep is of the highest importance.  Too
much sleep, however, makes our  blood circu-
lation sluggish, softens  our  fiber and dulls
our intelligence, not to mention other dangers
of a long period in bed.  But the sleep that
restores our  energy is necessary.  How long
one should sleep it would be ridiculous to
attempt  to  say.   The  amount  of  sleep
  •Note :  It Is essential that we be well nourished, and no one
attains his maximum of energy if he has not solved this problem
intelligently. There are those who will not willingly wear clothes
which have not been made to order, yet who accept a diet
compounded for any and all, which is necessary to the profits of
restaurant and hotel-keepers.  It would be impossible to say how
many persons have had their energies destroyed by a dietary
that is not "made to order."  Most maladies  are the effect of
carelessness in our ways and means of alimentation so that our
regime of error gradually eventuates in inevitable disaster.
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required by each of us varies according to
the individual,  and it varies again with the
individual at certain seasons, in certain oc-
cupations and in different states of fatigue.
Each of us must observe his need of sleep and
regulate the amount in accordance with his
best judgment.
  Yet there is  one rule which all must ob-
serve.   As soon as you have experienced a
sleepless night, quit your work and take some
exercise in the  open air.  When insomnia is
not caused by excessive indulgence in stimu-
lants or defective digestion, it is the sign of
the beginning of nervous exhaustion.  When
sleep goes from us, everything goes from us.
  Walking in the open air, which stimulates
the circulation  and oxygenizes the blood, is
also a fruitful means of meditation.  Beetho-
ven used to hurry across country, note-book
in hand, to make memoranda of the ideas
that occurred to him.  He spent  whole days
in the open, forgetting even to eat.  During
the time he was composing his Ninth Sym-
phony, his  pre-occupation was  so great that
more than once  he lost his hat. Plutarch tells
us that Cicero, who was a bundle  of skin and
bones and suffered from stomach trouble, ate
                   [160] 
HOW TO WORK
sparingly and infrequently. He liked to walk
and during his walks to work on his orations.
"Whatever I am composing or cogitating,"
he said, " I  do during my walks.''  And Pliny
the Younger says: " It is wonderful how the
mind is stimulated by bodily exercise."  In
his  "Autobiography"  Herbert  Spencer
writes: "Often I went walking in the  fields
when I was deeply occupied with a subject,
because at  this time, as always, the work of
my brain was  done almost entirely in the
course of  walking."   I myself  composed
"The Education of the Will" almost  in its
entirety  on the seacoast at Bastia and the
hill of Saint Catherine at Bar-le-Duc. All the
books  I  have  published I can  locate geo-
graphically in some  beautiful spot of Ar-
deche, Champagne, Savoy or  Provence.  In
"Ecce Homo" Nietzsche writes:  "Spend as
little time as possible seated.  Do not trust an
idea unless it has come to you  in the open
air when one is in free motion.   The mus-
cles also must have their holiday.  All pre-
judices come from the intestines."
   The conditions of life in cities oblige the
majority of brain-workers to  spend most  of
their time  in a sedentary position.  They are
[161] 
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contemptuous  of manual  effort and  suffer
from muscular  atrophy.   Our methods of
education systematically ignore our 368 mus-
cles  and produce in consequence  men  who
are incomplete.  For these persons of atro-
phied muscles manual effort soon becomes an
insupportable burden instead of being, as it
should be, a condition of robust health and a
relaxation.   So they avoid manual effort, and
as the result of living contrarily to the re-
quirements of nature most brain-workers are
weak and ailing.  Their energy dries up and
the brain soon  loses its youth  and vigor of
initiative.  Their mental equilibrium falls out
of poise and they become the prey of the joys
and satisfactions of vanity.
  The system of doing one thing at a time and
doing it whole-heartedly  during our hours
of energy sweeps our life  clear of intermin-
able hours of semi-somnolence.  We are freed
from the stagnation of inertia, our body is no
longer numb as we sit at our work-table, and
our blood circulates properly.  Life becomes
a pleasant  affair,  for  we  have  some hours
each  day  for  sweet leisure outdoors.  We
remain young and escape  the  stigmata  of a
waxen complexion, dull eyes, stooped shoul-
                  [162] 
HOW  TO WORK
ders and ill humor which make up the ridicu-
lous figure of the Herr Professor of beyond
the Rhine.
  We can always recognize the true worker
in one whom we see getting the benefit of the
open air every day.
  It is absurd, when we are really working,
to seek relaxation in what are called ' * Amuse-
ments,"  as  for instance, shutting  oneself
up  in a smoke-laden cafe  or, in dulling our
mind playing cards. We must learn to find
our  recreation  in  efforts to  develop  our-
selves, in the feeling of power which active
energy affords.  What resources lie at hand
in walks and tramping tours, in the contem-
plation of nature under its manifold aspects!
Then consider our opportunities  in such
sports as rowing,  fishing,  hunting.   Also
to be noted are the pleasures  of family and
friends; and finally the recreative reading to
be found in novels and books of travel.  But
we must  reduce  to a minimum sedentary
pleasures, which tend toward  stagnation of
the circulatory system.   We must  learn to
saunter idly in the open air and find naive
delight  in everything.  How  many writers
there have been who stupidly ruined their
[163] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
health because they did not know how to rest
and recreate themselves!  Life is sufficiently
long and it is better to work in wise modera-
tion during forty years than in excess during
fifteen.  This is the more important because
of the fact that excessive work impedes har-
monious intellectual development, which re-
quires  much  time  and  a  very  leisurely
ripening.

     ORGANIZATION OF PERSONAL ENERGY
  There may seem somewhat of contradiction
between the advice that we should work only
for a short number of hours and the advice
that we should  economize our minutes.  But
there  is no contradiction here if  we duly un-
derstand the distinction  between intensive
effort and mechanical effort which draws only
in a minor degree  on our  intellectual forces.
The calls upon will-power in these two opera-
tions may be compared to the demand on our
physical energy made in a climb up  a rocky
cliff and a walk along a highway. The latter
requires neither  attention nor strenuous
effort.
  Our brain is  always active.  Perceptions,
internal sensations and feelings excite a con-
                  [164] 
HOW TO WORK
stant play of capricious ideas,  a reverie at
which the will assists as a spectator.  This
continuous unfolding of states of conscious-
ness, which is automatic in process and fol-
lows the laws of the association of ideas does
not cause fatigue.  Fatigue is caused by the
voluntary governance imposed on the associa-
tion of ideas through an act of attention.
  Elsewhere we have  studied  the delicate
mechanism of the direction of thought, which
constitutes our liberty.  We are not masters
of our associations of ideas, and in this, as in
all  things,  we can command matters only
when we subject ourselves to their laws.  We
face the unfolding of ideas within us much as
the man at sea  scans  the  waters with his
searchlight.  If he observes a suspicious ob-
ject, he fixes  his light upon it in order to
scrutinize it carefully.   Similarly, when we
are interested in an idea we fix upon it the
searchlight we name attention.   Thus vividly
illuminated, the  idea acquires  importance.
It rallies about itself, through the laws of as-
sociation, a multitude of memories, impres-
sions, feelings.  All our will-power consists
in this illuminating attention, which we shed
upon the  idea or feeling we choose among
[165] 
_______WILL-POWER AND  WORK________

many.  Often it is difficult to keep the atten-
tion fixt on a certain state of consciousness,
but we know that habit is the liberator of the
will.  An act difficult of accomplishment at
first becomes positively  easy when we have
performed  it frequently; and from being
easy of performance it becomes automatic.
  If we thoroughly understand this fact it is
plain how richly a worker may profit by the
great law of habit.  With slight initial effort
we can  train ourselves  so  that  our brain
operates usefully instead of  frivolously and
wastefully.   A river that wanders  aimlessly
in and out in countless meanderings may be
turned into a channel which will conserve and
direct  its force sufficiently to drive  a mill.
The same  holds true of the  mental force
wasted in frivolities, if  we concentrate  and
direct it to do useful work—and at no greater
expense of energy.
  The method by which  we attain  such con-
trol is to interest ourselves in our work and
to have keen attention on it, so  that every
passing idea, if  it have  any connection with
the subject of our preoccupation, is seized in
its flight.  Thus  in Newton's mind there was
the ever-present hypothesis  of the law of
[166] 
HOW TO WORK
gravity,  which vague  enough  in  its hypo-
thetical state, became, as it were, a sudden
conclusion when he saw the apple fall.
  For twenty years I had observed the falla-
ciousness of our method of teaching French
composition, when one day there came to my
mind a plan  for a rational method which is
the purpose of my book on *' Apprenticeship
To the Art of Writing."  So earnest was I
in my convictions that  I may  say,  without
exaggeration, during  these twenty years
scarcely  a day passed without my thinking
on  this subject.  I found examples for the
illustration of my principles, ideas and  sug-
gestions  in all my educational  work, in my
reading and  in conversation.  My attention
was always on the alert for matter pertinent
to my subject, just as the mariner keeps his
searchlight on the alert for objects he  may
meet at sea.  In a sense a book must be built
up little by little in the brain without the co-
operation of the will. We hear it sometimes
said of very difficult research work that one
might as well look for a  needle in a haystack.
To him who has learned to have a governing
idea in his brain the needles come of them-
selves from the haystack, as if drawn by mag-
netic attraction.
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WILL-POWER AND WORK
  This attraction is the  general law of our
thought.  It is by this process that prejudices'
and superstitions are created.  The  peasant
who believes in the predictions of the almanac
is oblivious of the many cases in which these
predictions proved  utterly false.  He takes
note of and keeps in mind only cases in which
the prediction proved true.
  A victim of infatuation can see only high
qualities even  in  an  unworthy  woman  he
loves.  A mother is  unable to see the faults
of her child, but is fully aware of his slightest
qualities and magnifies them. A party man
can not see the kernel of truth imbedded in
the doctrines of his opponents, and does jus-
tice to those who oppose  him only with great
difficulty. All preconceived opinions render
us deaf to those who contradict them and in-
cline us to lend a willing ear to those who con-
firm them.
  The arbitrary attitude of the mind is nor-
mal.  Therefore it behooves us to use this kind
of fascination of the  attention toward all that
harmonizes with our dominant idea.  There
may be one dominant idea or several, for we
gradually interest ourselves in  several and
they all  acquire the magnetic force which
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HOW TO WORK
attracts everything that is  in  some degree
charged with the same electricity.  At about
my twenty-seventh year I had sighted the
several greal truths,  the mere development
and exposition  of  which has been the  work
of a lifetime. I find in my note-books various
and sometimes cumbrous plans of my several
works.  Through  the close relationship of
governing ideas in my moral and intellectual
development, I have  been able for the past
twenty-five years to profit by the sum total of
my experiences, my  reading,  etc.   Even in
reading  mediocre  books and  second-class
novels, a remark,  a  witticism, a reflection
would leap from  the printed  page, as the
needle springs to the magnet, and would take
its place  in the mass  of facts already classi-
fied.  So when  I have planned a chapter of
a book and have  laid my note-books out in
order, observations and readings  of yester-
day align themselves  with documents of ten,
fifteen and even thirty years past.  The work
of my whole life converges in orderly array
at one point, according to my desire.  This,
moreover, is the Incorruptible Accountant ap-
pearing in  another guise.  What strength
there is in these serried battalions of obser-
[169] 
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vations and facts,  which  we  have  been
steadily organizing  through  the  years  as
vital  reserves  to  support us  in  our final
charge for the conquest of the truth!
  The deep sense of power we possess as the
reward of a lifetime of labor is not only a com-
fort to the intelligence, but also to the soul.
It gives us confidence  and serenity. It for-
tifies  us against the attacks of ephemeral
publications and the ill-will that those who
have  power  without  influence  display  or-
dinarily toward  those who  have  influence
without power.  It enables us to accept with
a light heart injustice and persecution, which
have never been spared to those who accom-
plish  an important work.
  It will be understood from the  foregoing
how,  without  great  effort, we may always
have our work in mind.  Our brain must, so to
speak, be set as a trap to catch every passing
idea that chances along the path of the vari-
ous  objects  we  have  in mind.   Observa-
tions,  remarks  and reading  provide  these
ideas, that fall easily into the trap, and we
have only the trouble of gathering and sort-
ing them.   In a few years we have a. wealth
of material; and I repeat that the only effort
                   [170] 
HOW TO WORK
involved is  the normal and  ceaseless un-
folding of the fortuitous and capricious asso-
ciations of ideas.
  Even in our hours of sleep  our mind will
be alert in the same process.  No matter at
what time I  may awaken in the night, I have
found it often happens that some ingenious
comparison  will occur  to  me,  some pic-
turesque phrase, an objection to be  met, a
new plan for a chapter, a new lead of thought,
etc.  This is infinitely  less fatiguing than to
awaken to the consciousness  of some mis-
adventure, an injustice done to us, a mistake
committed by us.  For I shall  never cease to
aver that among the chief causes of nervous
exhaustion are disappointments, cares, dis-
quietude, friction  and trouble in   general.
There can be no such thing as overwork if
there be not that gnawing of the heart which
comes from sadness and sorrow.  Only the
heart and the stomach are  prey to this ill;
and melancholy and bitter ideas disturb the
action of the heart and dry  up or poison the
secretions.  Grief and worry are the great
sources of exhaustion.
   On the other hand happiness is  the most
efficacious of tonics; and there is no happi-
[171] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

ness more lasting or more deep-seated than
that which proceeds from the consciousness
of fruitful effort.
  So  we have  solved the above-mentioned
seeming contradiction between the advice to
work during only a limited number of hours
and to think always of our work.  When we
assume the offensive, we must do so with all
our might.  During the rest of the time we
must direct the action of the brain along cer-
tain chosen lines,  or else  this ever-moving
force will spend itself in reveries, fantasies,
and brooding on minor difficulties. On these
chosen lines the collection of useful material
for our purpose is made without effort  of
the will.  Let us work when we work, and at
other times let us manage so that the constant
flow of associated ideas automatically pro-
duces useful results, even when we are amus-
ing ourselves, are merely idle or are sleeping.
  We should work only a few hours each day,
and the rest of the time we should enjoy the
open  air, the sunlight and the conversation
and company of friends, while our brain auto-
matically grasps every passing idea and  im-
pression of service to our purpose.
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HOW TO WORK
     ONE'S ONLY HELP LIES IN  ONESELF
  But we must be careful to guard ourselves
against the  delusion that work can  be done
as by a  miracle, without any  effort on our
part; and we must never depend on outside
help.  Results are obtained only by ourselves,
through  properly used hours of energy, and
through  the accurate record,kept by the In-
corruptible Accountant of our many little vic-
tories over ourselves.
  To the young  man who pines  because he
thinks himself isolated in a small town or in
a village I would say that his lot is no dif-
ferent from that of the students  at  the Sor-
bonne.  He  must stoically admit to  himself
the sorry truth that to-day no one helps an-
other.   Perhaps  this is so because no in-
dividual is exactly like his fellow.  Univer-
sities,  where everything should be  subordi-
nated to the aid and perfection of the student,
are bodies without soul.
  Their  organization, materially  considered,
is often excellent; their organization, psy-
chologically considered, is  yet  to be created.
It has been justly remarked of the Sorbonne
that it wears a hostile  aspect with  its grey
[173] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
walls enclosing sombre corridors. The monks
of the  Middle Ages,  who  understood  the
sustaining spirit of familiar places, created
the cloister as a friendly and intimate place
apart.   Round the silent court, into which
came floods of light and  air, stood slender
columns  and  sundry  sculptured  figures.
Every  detail  of  the place  invited one  to
leisurely promenade,  to  conversation and
meditation.   Moreover,  when  one of  the
monks  felt despondent, he might  seek sure
comfort and encouragement in talk with a
brother monk.  The monks never experi-
enced  the cruel isolation that falls  like a
stroke  of paralysis on the souls of so many
high-spirited young men, who are lost in the
desert  of a vast and uncaring city.
  Save for a few exceptions, the average pro-
fessor  in our universities is  either too high
above or too far away from the student.  He
has  his personal  labors  and the responsi-
bilities of his post, so that he lacks the time
to become  a director  of  studies for which
work of guidance a very rare quality of brain
and  soul is indispensable.  In consequence
the student is in danger of becoming wholly
isolated.
[174] 
HOW TO WORK
  At least, I venture to say, study-work might
be organized by formulating rules designed to
correct unsound methods, and by affording
the student counsel and encouragement.  But
nothing of the sort is done.  In all my student
years none of my professors ever gave me a
word of advice or of stimulus.  None of them
seemed even to imagine our discouragements
and the loneliness of our lot, nor attempted to
lend us a helping hand in our moments of
dire  need.  Nobody ever  took the trouble to
help us to  see clearly within ourselves, and
take account of our defects and of our quali-
ties.   There is a complete system  of the edu-
cation of the will of very diffuse  technic for
moralists  and  directors  of  conscience, of
which we  did not know the first  principles.
No one among our professors, who were long
experienced in life and work, had the slightest
concern for our ignorance and our weakness.
If we would be saved, we must save ourselves.
The  only value  of universities lies in their
provision  of  libraries and laboratories, and
above all in the companionship of intelligent
fellow students, with whom one talks freely
of the perplexities of one's work.  Even in
the laboratory it is unusual to find professors
[175] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

who know how to bring the young mind to
achievement, to help it become wholly itself,
and  to initiate it into the joys of creative
effort.
  At bottom the one problem is to induct the
student into personal realization of the pro-
found emotion of creative effort.  Once he
realizes this emotion, the goal is  reached;
work is transformed in his eyes and his  will
is electrified with enthusiasm.
  We may  compare the change to that ex-
perienced in  a religious conversion.   The
realization of  Divine  Love completely alters
our  standard  of  values.  Poverty,  suffering
and humiliation become the object of ardent
zeal. Life  is  transfigured.  Money, power,
the pleasures of pride that formerly were so
hotly pursued, have no longer  any more at-
traction for the neophyte than a child's toys
have for a grown man.
  So also when a student has once experi-
enced the consciousness of strength, sturdi-
ness, and self-confidence which creative effort
brings, all petty vanities of success become
valueless in his eyes and pseudo-effort is re-
vealed to him as contemptible.  I remember
one  occasion when I was sent to a small city
                   [176] 
HOW TO WORK
in the  south  of France, where the  libraries
contained no  books on philosophy, nor were
any to be bought in the book shops.  I had
spent several years in Paris  immersed  in
lecture courses and reading, and had amassed
an encyclopedic fund of ideas as it were by
hearsay.  Left to my own resources in this
small southern town, like the sole survivor of
a  shipwreck, I  was  obliged, like  a philo-
sophical Robinson Crusoe, to create my own
course of philosophy.  It  was a happy ship-
wreck for me, for as the  result of it I dis-
covered that  all my previous work had been
pseudo-effort. I came into the realization of
creative effort in which is implied one's en-
tire  individuality.   Once the student has
known the heat and glow of this revelation he
has no  further need of outside help.  He is
touched with the sacred fire.  He has the faith
that moves mountains.
  But  in order to lead him to this decisive
experience, it is imperative that we have a
profound knowledge of the nature of his mind
and of his tastes.  A teacher should consider
that his primordial duty is to be a discoverer
of minds.  Moreover, he should show and
prove that he lives only for his work and that
[177] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
he  is  sparing neither  of  his  time nor  his
energy.  .  .  .
  Therefore, I say to the lonely worker in the
field of study, put not your faith in the value
of help that comes from outside. It can never
be your essential aid.  The  essential aid is
that you throw yourself resolutely into your
work, with courage and vigor. If you do this,
outside help  may serve  as a perquisite.  If
you do not, all outside help will be to no pur-
pose.  This outside help in intellectual effort
may be  likened  to the  help afforded  by a
mountain guide in  a difficult climbing  feat.
The fact that he has mounted this difficult bit
of cliff proves that it can be climbed.  If need
be, the rope he carries may be of assistance
to you; but you will never succeed in climbing
the rock unless with your hands, arms, knees
and feet you exert every muscle to grip the
cliff point by point in the ascent.  Minor help
may serve us to  a degree, but the essential
factor is the help we draw from within our-
selves.
  Above all things persevere, and remember
that you have but one sure friend and pro-
tector, the Incorruptible  Accountant,  who,
minute by minute, inscribes  on your brain,
                  [178] 
HOW TO WORK
in the form of liberating habits, your slightest
acts  of patience, calm, endurance, heroism.
You  will understand later that  work is the
only means of escape from- that intolerable
isolation of spirit which plunges men into all
kinds of folly.  When you have become some-
body, you  will  always have  an interesting
companion at least in yourself.
                COOPERATION

  Our educational system is- founded  on a
purely  selfish basis—each for himself.   We
have not modelled it on that  of Port-Royal,
where work was done in common in a  large
study hall and all cooperated fraternally.
We  should reestablish- the friendly  coopera-
tive  plan of the old schools-  of painting, in
which the students watched the  procedure of
the  master as he painted and  they painted
in concert with him.  Then  he  would  point
out  their deficiencies to them and give  them
practical advice.  In Vasari's works we may
learn in detail of the admirable system of
the  studios  of the  Italian painters of the
golden age.
   The Pasteur Institute, where  fraternal co-
 operation  has always  been practised under
                    [179] 
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the direction of Pasteur, Duclax, Roux and
Calmette, offers excellent evidence of the rich
results of this  method. Another successful
practitioner of the cooperating method was
Gaston Paris, whose  patience and  scientific
probity were admirable. He stimulated re-
search and study by maintaining a huge cor-
respondence with a host of medievalists.  He
directed  companies of  learned men,  as we
are told, "not in the manner of those servants
who make others, work under their orders, but
in  accordance  with  the  beautiful precept
'that each by his own law tranquilly seek the
light.'  Happy to  find" originality in  others
...  he was ever busy dispensing ideas and
assistance."  Again, we are  cautioned not to
look only in his works for all the accomplish-
ments of the man, for through "his-power of
suggestion, of direction and  of illumination"
he was the guiding spirit of  medievalists for
a period  of forty years.  His death fell as a
blow on his disciples, because it was he who
had taught them "how and why we work."
  The practise of cooperation in study should
be thoroughly systemized from our prepara-
tory colleges upward.  It would be so  simple
in literature, in history, in philosophy, to set
[180] 
HOW TO WORK
a whole company of scholars to the task of
discovering the salient features of a literary
character or an epoch; the proofs favorable
to a certain hypothesis; facts recorded in his-
tory that either confirm or disprove a theory.
Thus, for instance, a cooperative study might
be made of such subjects as: Moliere's  lit-
erary opinions; the character of The Fox in
La Fontaine; the comic  spirit  of Pascal as
evidenced in "Provincial Letters."
  In  preparing for  the professorship   in
philosophy some of my fellows and I  set
ourselves to the task of acquiring the fullest
comprehension  of  the  Greek  and  Latin
authors appointed for our study, as well as
of the commentators on these authors.  There
is scarcely an important word in the texts of
these  authors which  is  not illuminated  by
some  significant passage of the  author him-
self or of a commentator.  There  are pages
in Aristotle,  fully to understand  which  de-
mands considerable labor; and  if three men
study one such page at the same time, more
rapid and more thorough progress is effected.
Furthermore, the labor is more spirited  be-
cause of the exchange of criticism and objec-
tions  in the combined activity  of their dif-
[ 181 ] 
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ferent minds.   Each  man contributes  his
quota of suggestions, discoveries and reflec-
tions.  In this manner I read John Stuart
Mill's "Inductive Philosophy" by joint read-
ing and discussion with a young  savant of
brilliant promise.  This  cooperative method
of work is excellent provided it be followed
in utter sincerity without pompous pretense
  In the mere competitive effort  of several
minds, toiling vigorously on a given subject,
there is  a greater possibility of  individual
advancement.
  Teachers  and instructors  of  all  grades
might do much to further this method of co-
operation; but they must be  careful not to
thrust themselves too far forward in the mat-
ter.   They should consider each  class as a
cooperative body  of research.  Whenever I
see a Latin teacher explaining a text, seeking
and finding the proper word  of translation,
and recalling the rule involved, a feeling of
impatience comes over me.  It is the duty of
the scholars  to cite the  rule, to consult the
grammar, and to find the proper word of
translation.  The teacher who intervenes be-
fore the case becomes urgent, is to  be charged
with having executed a coup d'etat, and for a
[182] 
HOW TO WORK
republic of  awakening minds he substitutes
his sterile despotism.
  Is it too much to expect from the common
sense of the nation that the capital lesson of
the war shall not go for naught?  In the im-
mense collective effort of  war did we not all
learn by direct experience the  necessity of
team-work, of cooperation?  Are  we  to  find
that intellectual workers  are as solitary in
their outlook as humdrum peasants, each of
whom cultivates his little  plot of ground in-
stead of all combining their means of pro-
duction?  Peasants and intellectuals are both
unprogressive as workers because they are
too individualistic and do  not understand co-
operation.  Meanwhile I  should like  to  add
to the cases I have offered in testimony to
the value of cooperation, the case of great
newspapers.   Editors  do  not  sign  their
articles, for they owe all their knowledge to
their newspaper and they are not allowed to
publish  anything on their  own responsibility.
All efforts converge toward the success of
the common enterprise.  Yet there is nothing
very  fruitful  or  attractive in  this drastic
scheme  of cooperation.  Cooperation in in-
tellectual  effort must  be  free and presup-
[183] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

poses leisure, for inspiration is fitful and will
not be governed by discipline of the Prussian
style.
  But as  the particular  cooperation  I  have
been treating is not a matter of to-morrow or
the next day, the wise brain-worker will aim
at a judicious personal administration of his
energies.   He  will  occupy  his  hours  of
medium energetic  power with the  prelimin-
aries of work, such as research among books
and documents and generaj reading on a sub-
ject.  He  will learn to dispose of his arms,
munitions and  equipment so prudently that
he will derive from his hours of high energy
their full meed of productiveness.
[184] 
IV
    STUDIES OF  CERTAIN GREAT MEN

  It would be of great service to the world
if there were in existence honest and author-
itative records of the  methods of work em-
ployed by great men.   Such records are rare
and for a very obvious reason.  In the case
of rulers, ministers of state, administrators
and men chiefly celebrated for their energetic
powers, it is almost impossible to secure an
accurate account of their methods  of work.
Nevertheless it is plain that we should derive
great benefit from a knowledge of their work-
ing habits and of their procedure in matters
of thought.  The trouble is that most public
men are always on parade, and are not seek-
ing to have the eyes of the world see them as
they really  are, but as they  wish to be con-
sidered. Their overwhelming assurance im-
poses on  nearly  all people,  and they know
it.  In the face of their dogmatic utterances
and their tranquil cynicism, the critical sense
is paralyzed to a great degree  even in per-
                   [185] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

sons of intelligent mind.  The leaders of men
and their tricky satellites, who know how to
hypnotize the mob, are equally well-informed
on the force of the power they possess.
  Thus it happens that we have scarcely any
information about the method of  work of
Napoleon.  Roederer, a  French  statesman,
and  others have made  significant  observa-
tions. From people who occupy the attention
of the "good public," the mimes, as  Peguy
calls them, we can expect no honest avowals.
We all know of the  deleterious influence of
public applause.   The habitual  pursuit of
popularity is the acceptance of ignoble men-
tal serfdom, because it requires that a person
subject his conduct of life to the judgment of
a group of  incompetents, whose  individual
intervention in  his affairs he would repulse
with scorn.   Once a person accepts such a
condition he breaks all ties with sincerity.
  It follows that our only chance of finding
genuine and earnest  confidences lies among
that class  of robust  geniuses who had need
only of their just self-esteem, and who held
that there is no reason for living which can
equal the joy one finds in creative  work.
  Let us first examine the method of work of
[186] 
   STUDIES OF CERTAIN GREAT MEN

certain administrators of unrivalled  superi-
ority. We have seen the ease with which the
Dutch statesman Jean de Witt accomplished
enormous tasks.  As he said himself, his main
rule was  to do one thing at a time and to do
it  well.   Colbert,  one  of the greatest of
France's  ministers, followed the  same  rule
and  attained  magnificent  results.   In the
Revue de Paris (Nov. 15,1901) his method of
work is described  in  his own words as fol-
lows:
  "To direct affairs a man must rise before
six o'clock . .  . remain at his desk five or
six hours each day.   He must consider the
business  at hand with application and pene-
tration and act on the spot. Allow no papers
to lie day after day before settling the prob-
lems of which they treat.  If you do not push
through some matter of business each day
...  it will be impossible for you to find the
necessary time to  reason and think clearly
on all you have to do."  Work a few hours
each day, but work with all your heart and
soul at the appointed task, such is the advice
of Colbert.
  "There never was a man capable of such
complete absorption in a task as Napoleon,"
[187] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
we are told.  "Nor was there ever any  one
whose mind so absolutely refused to be con-
cerned with any thought or action that was
not presented on the proper day and at the
proper hour."  But no one ever kept more
fixt attention on the objective of any effort.
He meditated matters for a long time and
was able to foresee everything through in-
tensive reflection.

      POLITICAL EFFORT IS UNORGANIZED
  It is  pathetic to contrast the method of
Colbert with the procedure of our statesmen
of to-day.
  In the Revue Bleue (June 10, 1911), Mr.
Leon Bourgeois gives us the following picture
of the modern method:
  "A cabinet minister is occupied  in  the
morning, from nine till twelve, by Cabinet
meetings, audiences, treating solely of solici-
tations for preferment by officials and their
friends, and lately, by frequent special ses-
sions of the Chamber.  In the afternoon, from
four to six, he is detained either at the Palais-
Bourbon or at the Luxembourg.   In the eve-
ning he has innumerable documents to sign,
unless it happen  that he must  preside at a
                  [188] 
   STUDIES OF CERTAIN GREAT MEN

banquet. On Sundays he travels to this place
or that to preside at some ceremony of in-
auguration and to spread the showers  of
decorations for agricultural or academic dis-
tinction. ''
  Mr. Raymond Poincare, also  enlightens  us
on the interrupted effort of a Cabinet Minis-
ter as follows:
  "He rises  early in the morning and finds
on his desk a tiny mountain of letters.  They
are his personal mail.  He spends about  an
hour in disposing of these letters, nearly all of
which  request  some  favor.  There follows
the reading  or examination of press clip-
pings,  'that tide  of  bitter  waters.'  The
reading of these constitutes a distinctly bad
mental hygiene. From nine o'clock till noon,
a host of senators and deputies  descend upon
him to urge the political deserts of their con-
stituents, their sons, brothers, nephews, cou-
sins. . . . The next day the morning is taken
up with a meeting  of the Cabinet, by cinema-
tographic assemblies at which, for a period
of from two  to three hours, there passes in
review a whole sequence of scenes of public
life in matters administrative,  financial, so-
cial and, above all,  parliamentary.   In  the
[189] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

afternoon his time is given to the Senate
and the Chamber."  He should always have
large pockets in his clothes for in these halls
he will  receive further requests and recom-
mendations for preferment.
  He comes home late to  sign hundreds of
papers and letters "as if in a dream, so that
he scarcely is conscious of more than inter-
mittent rays of light on the actual meaning of
the multitude of decisions submitted to him."
There follows a meeting with the leaders of
the administration who come to confer with
him  on matters of delicacy and importance.
"He receives them, confers with them, but
in such haste, that in his driven state of mind,
he accepts their  suggestions too readily or,
without sufficient grounds, antagonizes their
proposals.  And  in utter good faith,  he
believes he is rendering a reasoned, impar-
tial, individual judgment."
  On the day following, the same distracting
life is  to  be led over again. " If a Cabinet
Minister has a legislative project to consider
he can devote to  it only a  preoccupied mind
in furtive hours now and  again.  If he is
strong in assimilative gift  he will eventually
reflect the mind of one of his aids in the ver-
[190] 
   STUDIES OF CERTAIN GREAT MEN

diet he renders, and so appropriate the other's
work.''
  Then Mr. Barthou tells us that the day of
a Cabinet Minister is "a succession of lost
hours, amid which  are  occasional rare mo-
monts of leisure which are employed in some
useful work."

  In  consequence  of  the lack  of proper
organization in the parliamentary and admin-
istrative branches of the government, France
has suffered a good deal.  A profound  study
of governmental reform was published in the
Revue de Paris (December 1 and 15,1917) in
which the  author  shows that  our political
machinery as  at present constituted can not
produce good results.   In his view the Pre-
mier should surround himself with a stable
body of directors,  chosen from  among the
best minds  of the  nation, minds capable of
searching  criticism of  existing  conditions,
and above all  competent to collaborate  in the
work of reorganization.  Thus the Premier
would  become  the managing  director of
the political and administrative effort  of the
country, the coordinating brain.   This body
of  directors  would  draw  upon the   best-
[191] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
equipped men of the nation for the various
technical departments.   The Premier would
add temporary members to the body of  di-
rectors, preferably young deputies of acknow-
ledged merit  who  in  this  capacity  would
instruct themselves in  the  business of gov-
ernment.
  The general committee   of  directorship    1
would examine into questions of the day and
coordinate  all efforts in the service of the
government.  The Premier  would entrust to
them  the study of proposed reforms.  With
their  aid he could cope with state affairs as
a whole, and calmly and efficaciously exert his
will with the Ministers and with the Cham-
bers.
  He  would have "regular working hours"
with each Minister, as was the practise of that
hard worker Louis XIV, we learn from Saint-
Simon.  The Cabinet would cease to exist,
for it is "an absurd encumbrance,"  which
takes  up a  great deal of valuable time three
days each week.  It has no secretary, no for-
mal manner of procedure.   A great law is
never discust  by  the  Cabinet, nor  reforms
of far-reaching influence, nor plans of admin-
istration.  All the Cabinet's time is  spent in
                  [192] 
   STUDIES OF  CERTAIN GREAT MEN

conversations, for lack of a directive brain to
examine, sift  and decide  on projects under
consideration.
  As long as France lacks a steady direction
in political  and  administrative  effort—to
secure which so little effort is necessary—so
long will  impotence,  error and unrest con-
tinue, and chance alone will guide the ship
of state.  The country really keeps on its feet
only because of the solid framework of admin-
istration which we  owe  to  Napoleon.  As
John Stuart Mill has said, the government of
France is  a  bureaucracy.   This  is our
strength pending the lack of some organizing
power,  but it is also our  weakness.  As
Gladstone  said, toward the end  of his life,
there has never been any great bill of reforms
that was not  set in motion despite the fixt
opposition of all governmental departments
and governmental experts, and  which suc-
ceeded contrary to their prognostications.
  It is evident therefore, that  in order  to
have an advantageous reorganization of the
national service we need  a real leader, who
can see the end to be attained, clearly and
distinctly, and whose  will  shall triumph irre-
sistibly in the teeth of all opposition.
                  [193] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

  We shall not arrive anywhere if our gov-
ernmental methods of work continue to be so
absurd  and incoherent that our Ministers
have  "only intermittent  flashes of under-
standing"  of  the  matters in their  charge.
If we do not change this state of things the
victories of the Marne, the Yser and of Ver-
dun will serve us to no purpose. The won-
derful  qualities  that   the  French nation
displayed under the menace of death,  will
continue to  contradict  and  negative  one
another for lack of a central body of coor-
dination and direction.
  It would be of great help to us if we had
precise  information of the manner in which
our great reform ministers organized their
efforts.   Unhappily no  such valuable infor-
mation  is to be had.  Historians are more
interested  in  the doings and  sayings  of
Madame de Pompadour, than in the under-
lying causes of the greatness of their country.
The primordial source of .success, we know,
however, lies  in the  organization  of one's
work.  When the time  comes that  the gov-
ernment has learned how to use all the intel-
lectual and moral forces of France, France
                  [194] 
   STUDIES OF CERTAIN GREAT MEN

will suddenly loom upon  the world in  new
and incomparable grandeur.
  So  we regret again  that generations of
later  historians  have not studied in detail
the lives of great organizers in order that we
might know about their methods of work.

           EXAMPLES OF AUTHORS
  In the case of authors, savants and artists
of the first class there is not much to be had of
self-revelation.  Eulogies  pronounced above
the bier are worthy of little credence, because
they  are panegyrics.  Once  men  are  dead
they  are removed from the  ranks of  their
rivals, and it is a matter of good form to hold
them  up  to the young as  exemplars.  Great
pains are  taken to gloss over their faults
and defects.   It would seem that they were
born  as precocious  as Gargantua who  cried
at birth:  "Bring me a drink!"   At  their
mother's breast, it would  seem, they showed
the earliest signs of  their genius.  This is
very  discouraging to  those of us  who were
unable to walk the first  week of our birth.
  It is necessary to fix a standard of possible
achievement in order that  the young may not
be discouraged- at the thought of attempting
[195] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
the  impossible.  Records of  the working
methods of celebrated men date always from
their period of maturity.  By this time they
have contracted strong habits, solidified by
twenty or thirty years of labor.  Their zeal
in the cause they espoused has become  irrer
sistible.  They are  sustained in it either by
the admiration of the world, or by the injus-
tice  of  the  world,  which  is  the  inevitable
meed of most men of parts.
  There are many  instances on record that
reveal the injurious effect of such injustice
and baseness in human nature.  As a result
of it some  thinkers  have become irritable
ascetics in the quest and explanation of facts
and  ideas.   Consequently they exceeded the
proper  limits  of working hours to  such a
degree that they ruined their health.  Young
people with their whole  lives before them
should take heed less they fall into a  similar
excess.
  We speak here only of minds of high value,
because, in their conscientiousness, they write
only after long  reflection.   Improvization
they consider unworthy of their abilities.  In
consequence they have no great influence on
younger writers.  Nobody, as a rule, helps
                   [196] 
   STUDIES OF CERTAIN GREAT MEN

them or justifies them, for the reason that by
probing matters- to the depths they disturb
and trouble a multitude of successful writers
who live on appearances.
  On  the other hand, it is to be noted, that
rewards, are reaped by adroit and clever
writers who labor in behalf of a party that is
successful in the social world  or in politics.
They  play on the surface  of things and dis-
quiet  no one.  In '' The Opinions of Jerome
Coignard,"  Anatole  France   says:  "The
mediocrities 'are at  once taken up and borne
along by other mediocrities; but in men  of
real talent there is an insolence that expiates
deep-rooted calumny through sullen hate."
But "word-maniacs"  have the satisfaction
of seeing the newspapers welcome their facile
scribblings; and what a large number of pop-
ular writers there are  whose incontinence  in
the use of ink  will be stopt only  by death.
It is  the duty  of  the  young writer to dis-
tinguish- between the prattlers of no depth
and the truly vigorous authors, who,  unse-
duced by the constant thought of money and
success, are able to "render  to reason the
respect and diligence  that  are  its due."
These  rare minds do not rule over our citi-
[197] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
zens, as the mighty of the earth, but in them;
and altho no salvo of artillery  or military
band hails their presence, from the depths
of their studious retreat they guide the steps
of the nation.
        THE GREATEST OF FRENCHMEN
  Great men there are whose work and per-
sonality  are discust  through  the  centuries
and among them is that greatest of French-
men, Rene Descartes.  Who is there that does
not admire his sincerity?  In his opinion good
sense is the most equally distributed  thing
of all things among mankind.  He says: " As
for myself, I have never considered my mind
in any particular more perfect than the mind
of the  average person. Indeed, I have often
wished that I had thought as prompt, imagin-
ation as clear and  clean-cut, or memory as
full or as ready as  others have."  This man
of genius and  of real character,  attributes
his  discoveries to his good fortune in con-
ceiving a sound method of work early  in his
life.  He  omits to mention that  he was pos-
sest  of  admirable  will-power,  which was
sustained by his ardent  enthusiasm  in the
pursuit of truth. He was the first to perceive
                   [198] 
    STUDIES OF CERTAIN GREAT MEN

the force of method in work.  And in the
terrible World  War there appeared tragic
evidence of the value of his discovery, for the
Germans, with their lumbering deductive in-
telligence, almost succeeded in reducing the
whole world to  subjection  because they had
learned the lesson of Descartes. On the other
hand, the French nation, for all its clear and
inventive genius, almost perished as a free
people because it had not learned the organi-
zation of effort.
  Descartes affirms that it is not sufficient to
have a good mind.  The principle thing is to
apply the mind properly and well.  Those
that proceed at a slow pace in walking, pro-
gress  much farther straight  along a given
road than those  who run and stray from the
line of their direction.
  Once  he had positively grasped the main
rules of his method, for nine years Descartes
ambled  here and there  in the world, noting
events  and criticizing them.   From time  to
time he set apart certain hours for working
out his method in mathematical or other diffi-
culties,  living  meanwhile  apparently  like
others, whose  life is  easy  and correct, and
sharing in all legitimate diversions.  But he
[199] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
was following out his aims and advancing in
the knowledge of truth "perhaps more than
if he did nothing but read books." He tells us
that  with intellectual progress it is as with
riches: they who begin to be rich have less dif-
ficulty  in  making  a great  acquisition  of
wealth, than they experienced  formerly  in
gathering much smaller possessions.  All the
truths he discovered are only the sequents and
corollaries of five or six difficulties that  he
mastered and which he considered as so many
battles won.
  As we have seen, there was nothing of the
pedant in Descartes.  He enjoyed life  freely,
but he did not squander his intellectual  en-
ergy.  He moved forward, with firm  and
measured tread, in the straight path of his
choice.
  We may note, moreover, the facility of his
disciple  Malebranche, who wrote the most
engaging pages we have in philosophy on the
importance of attention.   Malebranche  also
was convinced of the importance of order and
method.  In consequence he was very prudent
in the expenditure of his mental energies,
and his recreations were as simple as those
of a child.
[200] 
STUDIES OF CERTAIN GREAT MEN
              DARWIN—LYELL
  All great men  have known how to make
wise distribution  of their energies and none
of them  overworked themselves.  Consider
Darwin,  whose influence in the  domain of
science is so mighty.  He was not of robust
health, we learn from his *' Life and Letters'';
and when he was  at school the only qualities
remarked in him as of good- augury were his
varied and pronounced tastes, great zeal in a
subject  that interested* him,  and a  great
pleasure  in solving any complex problem.
He acquired the  habit of working energet-
ically, of keeping his attention  steady, and
gave thought only to such subjects as had
direct relationship to his studies. He medi-
tated on  the  "Origin of  Species"  during
twenty years.  His time was all his own, and
he worked, first, from eight till half-past nine
in the morning, then from  half-past ten till
noon or a quarter-past twelve. This he con-
sidered enough, and he would say with satis-
faction:  "I've  done a  good  day's work."
Some days he worked again in the afternoon
from  half-past four till half-past five, but
not every day.  Everything he  did,  he did
[201] 
_______ WILL-POWER AND WORK________

with a kind of fervent ardor  and he never
had to do anything over again.
  His friend  Lyell,  a geologist  of  genius,
never worked  for more than two hours at a
time.  Their compatriot Herbert Spencer suf-
fered from wretched health.  He let his ideas
take shape slowly.  It was beyond him to keep
his attention fixt for a protracted period, for
his nervous system  rebelled under  tension
much sooner than that of most people.  In his
"Autobiography"  he  tells us  that he never
could work  more than three hours continu-
ously, after which time  he was  unable  to
read  anything, even a novel.   Yet. by con-
centrating his forces and  energy, Spencer
succeeded in raising a mighty monument of
work.
        POUSSIN--VICTOR HUGO—ZOLA

  The precepts of  Nicholas Poussin, master
of the classic school of French painting, are
so valuable  that we may not overlook them.
He declares that  when  we work we must
give our whole mind to what  we  are doing,
and must never be impatient because with
time  and patience maturity  comes  in  all
things.  In * * Methods of the French Classics''
[202] 
   STUDIES OF  CERTAIN GREAT MEN

Paul Desjardins  cites another principle  of
Poussin, namely,  that we attain clearness in
expression only by diligent practise.  Also
he urged that we must always stick to our
line of march, that is, when we take up one
matter, stick to it until it is finished.  Thus
our mind is free from the interruption  of
other subjects. In fact, it is not work that
fatigues one,  but the  thought  of what one
should have done and has not done.  This
thought torments us with vague disquiet and
saps our energies.  Furthermore, work that
is only half done yields us no satisfaction;
but on  the  contrary leaves us discontented
and with a sense of failure.  Then again, if
we give only half our  attention  to any set
labor it will require four times as much effort
to perform.
  Victor Hugo used to rise very early and
write for five hours.   The rest of the time
he enjoyed himself in walking.  He  never
worked at night.  Yet his production is enor-
mous.
  Emile Zola, a novelist of unusual fertility,
spent only three  hours each day in writing.
His  voluntary attention was  intense,  when
fixt on  persons or things he wished to des-
                   [203] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

cribe.  But this intensity lasted only while he
worked, and he would go walking in the street
and fail to recognize his very friends in pass-
ing.   His  memory,  when  provided as  a
camera is provided with plates, caught every-
thing.  Dr. Toulouse wrote of him as follows:
  "When Zola was preparing to write  a
novel,  all pertinent facts for his work were
registered in his mind without the least diffi-
culty.  They  seemed automatically to group
themselves according to their natural affinity
and relative importance.   At the moment of
writing, images of the things he was writing
about came into his mind abundantly and sys-
tematically with  all their  color,  form,  and
even  smell.  But, apart  from this tensive
state  of voluntary memory, the mind of the
novelist did not readily concentrate.  When
he was President of the Society of Men of
Letters it took him three months to learn the
names of twenty-four members of the office
whom  he was obliged  frequently to call by
name to have them vote.''
  In Zola wq find the same economic adjust-
ment  of energy that is noted in all creative
writers.  He was all absorbed in the task of
the moment and we are told by Paul Meurice
[204] 
   STUDIES OF CERTAIN GREAT MEN

that he "never busied himself with gathering
facts about some undetermined subject for a
novel.  When he was writing 'La Terre,' he
was thoroughly interested in peasants  and
peasant life, but no observation about mili-
tary life or the financial world  would have
caught his attention."

       JULES VERNE—JOUFFROY—KANT
  Jules Verne,  who died in 1905 at the age
of 77, wrote a hundred books,—two in each
year of his productive  period, one in spring
and one in  autumn.  At Amiens, he led a
peaceful and regular life.  Rising very early
in the morning, he  wrote till ten o'clock, that
is to say about four hours.  Sir Walter Scott,
whose  productiveness was marvellous, con-
sidered five to six hours a long time at writ-
ing, and believed anything written after one
had worked for that period could not amount
to much.  Carlyle, one of  England's most
forceful minds, tells us in his letters over and
over that one never does good work when one
is hurried, and that one may attain to talented
production by working  four hours a day.
  Jouffroy makes  this avowal:   "I never
stopt when I came across an idea vague or
[ 205] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK

only half clear to me. I separated it into its
component parts with great care  ... I con-
centrated  my whole attention  on the chief
point.  I never allowed my mind to stray and
kept my energies in strict concentration.  To
each point I gave full and close examination.
It is impossible to over-estimate how many
and great difficulties can be overcome by this
method, and  also with what vigor it infuses
the mind.''
  We may recall also the counsel of Saint
Francis de  Sales, who  urges us  not to be
hurried, to use ourselves considerately and to
do only one thing after another.
  In his "Critique  of Pure  Reason" Kant
says that  in scientific research we must pur-
sue our course  with all possible  exactitude
and  sincerity, and must pay  no attention to
the difficulties that we may encounter outside
our domain.  We must perform our task for
itself alone, he  adds, and in an 'honest and
complete  manner.   Through experience he
had learned that in keeping the attention fixt
solely on  the subject of our  study until we
have finished with it, difficulties solve them-
selves.
[206] 
STUDIES OF CERTAIN GREAT MEN
      THE CASE OF RENAN, OF FLAUBERT,
           OF LITTRE, OF ROLLIN
  There are certain opinions that should be
discust at length because they might affect
some persons  discouragingly.  In a  famous
discourse Renan gave expression to very con-
tradictory counsel. * * Work,'' he said,'' work
incessantly."  He cited the retort of an old
Rabbi, who was charged with putting so many
precepts into  the Vase of the Law that  it
overflowed.  "In a cask that is full of nuts,"
said the Rabbi, "one may still pour several
measures of oil."
  Herein  Renan confuses- work and eru-
dition, work and the trap-system, of  which I
have previously  spoken, by which we capture
every passing idea favorable to our purpose.
The proof of my contention lies in his state-
ment, in the same discourse, of the following:
"Never  tire  yourselves  ... let   thought
come to you  ... do not summon it, do not
urge it.''
  In  the  recollections  of one  of  Renan's
scholars we read: "I recall that once we were
engaged on some hurried task in which Renan
was deeply interested.  As he saw that mid-
night was approaching, he bade me  be  off to
                  [ 207] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

bed, saying: 'Leave all that to me, I'm going
to work a little while longer.'  I learned next
day that he had toiled till three in the morning
and had completed the work.''
  Renan's scholar cites this case because it
is an exceptional one.  Moreover, it is  to be
noted that the task involved required im-
mediate performance.  Renan could not work
in the morning, because his brain was drowsy.
He was gradually waking up all during the
course of the day and only  in the evening
were his faculties in full play.  His methods
of work did not include a great total of actual
working hours, and they elucidate a remark
made about  Renan  by  one  of his former
teachers, who said:' ** One recognizes in Renan
an erudite man who took pains  to remember
more things than he  took time  to plumb
to their depths.  He is like a delightful spring
that spreads itself over a wide surface."
  Another  case  which we may not omit  is
that of Flaubert, the novelist.  In May, 1873,
he wrote to his  niece as follows:   "Yester-
day I worked eighteen  hours, from  half-past
six in the morning till midnight.  So it goes.
Thursday I worked fourteen  hours."  He is
constantly complaining of the  grind of his
                  [208] 
   STUDIES OF CERTAIN GREAT MEN

labors, and tells us in his letters that he read
two books each day.
  But  Jules  Lemaitre,  who justly admired
Flaubert, tells us that he was a great potterer,
and it may be even that he was very indolent
for, this authority says: '' He would take up
book after book in his vast library and glance
into  each, then lie on his divan and smoke
countless  clay pipes, the  while  he  mused
vaguely of the page he had begun to write,
and  ruminated on phrases.  This probably
is what he meant by saying he worked 'like
a nigger.' "   In the diary of the Brothers
Goncourt we hear Flaubert described as "a
great spendthrift of time."  He was  always
straying from his  set path by random read-
ing.  How much greater achievements might
not so conscientious a writer have to  his
credit if he had not lost so much time in scat-
tered effort!
  Now we  come to the case  of Littre,  who
compiled an  admirable  dictionary.   French
writers can never be sufficiently grateful to
this man, who for all of them is a modest but
indispensable  collaborator.   Many  of  his
definitions  are lacking in  depth, but  his
opulence of quotation from authors of value,
[209] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK _______

in which we find the precise signification of
important words, is an inestimable treasure.
He was forty years old when he began his
Herculean labors.  It took thirteen years to
complete them.  He had six regular assistants
and several occasional   collaborators.  A
slight notion of the effort involved in this
work may be gathered from the computation
that, if the columns of words in the dictionary
were placed one on top of another they would
rise just ten times  higher than  Mont Blanc
above the Chamonix Valley.   Littre rose at
eight o'clock.  While his room, which was his
study, was being made up, he did some work
on the ground floor  of the  house.  From nine
till twelve he corrected proof.  From one till
three he wrote.  From three till six he worked
on the dictionary.  At six he dined; and from
seven in the evening till midnight he worked
with his assistants.   Then he worked  alone
from midnight till three in the morning. He
finished his  colossal work  in 1865 and he ini-
tialled the last corrected proof in 1872, when
he was  seventy-one years old.  Thenceforth
he was afflicted with various ailments, yet he
declares that overwork was not the cause of
them.  But there is no doubt that they were
                   [210] 
   STUDIES OF CERTAIN GREAT MEN

the results of the overdraughts he had made
on his physical constitution.
  Now let us compare the working procedure
of the  historian Rollin with that  of  Littre.
Serene confidence is a distinguishing trait of
Rollin, who began his four volumes of a
"Treatise on Studies" when he was fifty-nine
years of age.   At sixty-seven he undertook
his ** * Ancient History,'' and he completed the
thirteenth and final volume of this work in
his seventy-sixth year. Incapable of fatigue,
he then began his'' Roman History.''  He had
written five volumes  of this work and had
planned and prepared the remaining volumes
when he died in 1741  in the eighty-first year
of his  age, leaving to the world a legacy of
thirty volumes in all.
  I do not present the cases of physicians or
chemists because their intellectual work is
healthily counterbalanced by manual work.
The  laboratory is at once  a  sustainer of
thought and of repose, but it would be very
difficult to estimate the time spent therein in
profound  attention.   The  savants  of  the
laboratory are a privileged  class  when  one
considers  their conditions  of work as com-
pared with those of men of letters.
                  [211] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK _______

  Incidentally, it must be noted that only
too many men of letters suffer condign pun-
ishment in their days of old age because they
have disdained manual effort. They know no
way to pass their leisure hours except to con-
tinue to work at the cost of eye-strain, physi-
cal health and intellectual energy.  As ex-
cessive  smokers, who smoke one  cigar im-
mediately after  another, as the  miser, who
becomes more and more avaricious, as the
alcoholic,  whose thirst  grows  ever more
feverish, they become each  day more  and
more  subject to the deadly tyranny of habit.
They read and read without ceasing and, un-
fortunately, sometimes they write in the same
proportion.   To speak only of men who are
dead, I may recall Brunetiere and Faguet
with each of whom the call to write without
having anything to say had become a morbid
necessity—that  death  alone  could  end.
Knowing this, we understand the melancholy
avowal of Brunetiere that he considered work
as a form of slow  suicide.  For a long time,
alas!  instead of working with alert energy,
which presupposes  a condition of repose, calm
and much leisure, he had been drudging pa-
thetically without respite and without joy in
                  [212] 
   STUDIES OF CERTAIN GREAT MEN

valueless productions.  He had the same con-
ception of work as had the Prior of the monas-
tery in the chapel of which Leonardo da Vinci
was painting the mural pictures. The Prior
complained to Duke Ludovico that his painter
spent much of his time merely dreaming and
not working.  As Vasari gives the anecdote
in his "Lives of the Greatest Painters," the
explanation vouchsafed to the duke by Leo-
nardo was that painting requires thought as
well  as action.  Moreover he  made the duke
understand that, often in the case of superior
minds the less they seem to work, the more
work they are doing, because  they are think-
ing and formulating in their  minds the per-
fected idea they purpose to render with their
brushes  and paint.  Incidentally,  da Vinci
had  his  revenge on the captious  Prior by
using his face and figure as model for his rep-
resentation of Judas  on  one of the  chapel
walls.
   Having reached the end of  this chapter let
us consider the conclusions to be drawn from
what has been stated.  The arguments origin-
ally  offered  as to method in our  work are
justified in the discoveries  we have made
about the working methods of various great
[213] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

men.  We must be virile, but not brutal in the
use of our energies  and keep their highest
hours of potency for creative work.  During
these sacred hours we must give ourselves up
to our work with all our mind and heart.  As
they are limited  in  duration we must  take
heed to avoid any diversion or dissipation of
our attention.  We must do  one thing  at a
time and only that one thing.  We must per-
form well  any work we undertake  and we
must perform it  completely.  We  must be
wholly ourselves  and so train and  organize
our  faculties that even during  leisure and
sleep they are in automatic operation.
  But we must husband our strength and be
careful never to  over-work.  If we  wish to
engage in any undertaking, let us adjust our
aptitudes to the requirements it involves, con-
centrate  our minds  on it,  and hold as our
assets time and the Incorruptible Accountant.
Then let us bring to the work in all its details
conscientiousness,  self-confidence and  inde-
fatigable perseverance. We  should have in
mind the oak, which, at first a small acorn,
through years and years of patient develop-
ment becomes a mighty and majestic tree, the
symbol of strength and energy.
                  [214] 
BOOK II
PSYCHOLOGICAL  BASES OF A  SOUND
        METHOD OF WORK
[215] 
 
I
               ATTENTION

         IMPORTANCE OF ATTENTION

  Persons who would employ their abilities
at full capacity should know that the two in-
struments of such perfection are the attention
and the memory.
  Mastery of the attention is the distinguish-
ing trait between the wise man and  the fool,
between the man of real worth and the medi-
ocrity.  The wise man knows how to banish
brooding thoughts or the  inevitable disap-
pointments of life, which the hypochondriac
clutches to his breast and from them draws
only bitterness.  The  mind  of real worth
fixes facts of positive influence as with a dart
and  ranges them in order.   The scattering
mind gropes here and there among insignifi-
cant facts and its findings are a huddled mass
of useless lumber.
  Only through the habit of attention can we
become free men, personalities.  No one can
                  [217] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
say that man is free who is tossed by the four
winds like a ship without a rudder.  To be
free means to direct by duly meditated choice
our feelings, our thoughts, our actions. We
can not direct them  in  detail,  but  we can
guide them  in a general direction.  This is
the procedure of the captain of a ship, who
is unable to escape contrary winds and cur-
rents, but who continually verifies his course
by consulting his compass. Similarly, I my-
self am a free individual when, having chosen
a line of progress in harmony with my tastes
and my  deeper inclinations, I  keep to  my
course of advancement in despite of tempta-
tion to idleness, in despite of  the thousand
and one distractions and seductions  that be-
tray the will.  Now I can not keep to my
course unless I have my attention constantly
fixt on a dominating idea. A person  prone
to distraction is incapable of such concentra-
tion.  At every turn he strays from his course
of thought and loses sight of the main issue.
The famous French alienist Pinel  relates
that a certain insane patient, who craved to
be released  from confinement  in an asylum,
was able to command sufficient presence of
[218] 
ATTENTION
mind so that he succeeded in passing  the
tests which entitled him to liberation.  But
when the authorities laid his discharge papers
before him the patient signed himself "Jesus
Christ."  This unfortunate man forgot  the
resolution of mind he had summoned to con-
ceal his-insanity, in  the course of the long and
exacting examination he had to undergo and
in  the  elation stirred  within him at  the
thought of being released from the asylum.
  We must so concentrate on a chosen idea
that it  acts like a  mighty magnet, which is
unseen, yet constantly exerts its power. This
is the highest manifestation  of will-power.
If the ever-present  idea is ambition, we have
a Napoleon.  If the ever-present idea  is  the
soul's salvation, we have saints and martyrs
like Polyeucte.  If the ever-present idea is a
scientific hypothesis, we have a Newton or a
Pasteur.
  At the opposite extreme of such heroes of
the power of attention, we find demented per-
sons who are incapable of holding to one idea
of reality for more than a few seconds; and
at a somewhat higher degree of mental capa-
city we find persons of scattered and dis-
tracted attention whose name is legion.
[219] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

  Hurry and distraction are the errors of the
present day. Most people suffer from ner-
vous breakdown of the powers of attention.
Pupils seem unable nowadays to listen, and
are incapable of repeating a question asked
of them, unless it be of the most elementary
sort.   They are unable to follow a line  of
argument, to distinguish the relationship be-
tween  various propositions, or a connection
in any degree subtle that  may lie between a
group of ideas.  I have known those who were
quite bewildered in an attempt to realize the
proportion A is to  B as C is to D.
  There are too many neurasthenics and too
many somnolent persons in our class-rooms,
who are able to acquire only crumbs of knowl-
edge.  How is it  possible that their minds
should be other than scattered?
  At home they are the victims of a cult  of
self-pity.   The family conceals from them
nothing of its difficulties, its woes, its desires
and preoccupations  .  .  .  what is more, the
family takes their  part against their instruc-
tors, who are so unjust and inhuman in ex-
pecting marvels from these  poor,  delicate
darlings.
  It is to be noted, however, that only too
[ 220] 
ATTENTION
often instruction in  our educational institu-
tions is wholly devoid of interest.  Pupils are
the prey of grammatical abstractions, which
are unintelligible to  them and distil in their
minds the poison of boredom.  Overburdened
plans of courses dismay them, and, as it were
by authority, habituate them to  scant their
work which they do. In his '' Autobiography''
Herbert  Spencer says that such  curricula
as these tend to increase  the sum total of
ignorance  and  only too often they fail to
illuminate work and  justify it by showing its
precise utility in the culture of the mind.  We
must confess also that  our educators are in
large  part responsible for  the  defective
powers of attention among our pupils.
  Matters  being as they are, it follows that
he who has not had the advantage of an edu-
cation in the will and in the attention should
set out courageously, to acquire  one by his
own effort.  He must know that the essential
evil  is the debility of the attention through
indolence and random and vacillating effort.
This inferiority of the voluntary attention is
aggravated by a kind of mental vagabondage.
We  are  always "off some  where  else," as
Malibranche says.  Our mind is  continually
[221] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
wandering idly hither  and thither and  as
Leibnitz puts  it,  will not submit itself  to
attention, order and rules.
  In my  "Education of the  Will" I have
written at length on the deleterious effects of
scattered powers of attention among students.
It is melancholy to consider how many per-
sons of first-class mind, of  brilliance and
high temper, who might have rendered noble
service to the nation, have allowed themselves
to waste away day after day, idle and unpro-
ductive, simply because  they  did not  know
how to concentrate their attention.

       VOLUNTARY ATTENTION IS RARE
  It is regrettable, but true, as Ribot shows
in his  volume on "Attention," that acts  of
voluntary attention are  rare,  and he  says:
"First of all let us eliminate  the  routine  of
our lives, that enormous mass of habits, which
move us as so many automatons. Let us elim-
inate the periods of our mental life when we
are in a merely passive state .  .  . Let  us
eliminate that relative state of mental repose,
when we think of nothing .  .  . Let us elim-
inate moments of passion and agitation. When
all these are eliminated,  we may write what
                   [222] 
ATTENTION
remains in the general total of the attention.
In this general total cases of spontaneous at-
tention are very numerous, but  the positive
cases of voluntary attention are very small
in number.  With many they amount to al-
most nothing."
  It is deplorable that the moments of atten-
tion should be so few in number when we
realize how  much progress is  gained by
proper use of short periods of attention.  Like
radium the attention  holds mighty forces in
narrow compass.   As a matter of fact, if we
closely watch a good student at work, we shall
be surprized to discover how often he is dis-
tracted during the time he studies  a  lesson.
He assimilates it  merely by devoting to it
short intervals of attention.  I can cite  pupils,
who were  incapable of giving their attention
for more than five  minutes at a time to a sub-
ject that interested them, and yet who  ranked
fifth in a class  of twenty-four.  If we  are
honest with ourselves we  must  admit that
our best intellectual productions are the fruit
of some several quarter hours of fervent at-
tention.
  The really  progressive   movements  of
humanity  are due to a minimum expenditure
                   [ 223 ] 
WDLL-POWER AND WORK
of this precious factor the attention, which
works miracles when, despite habits and pre-
judices, it penetrates to the  living  fold of
realities and the essential relativity of facts,
as it does in the employment of the creative
mind in the sciences, in the arts, in  politics
and in letters.
  In the silence of external surroundings, in
the calm of our emotions, in the subsidence
of interior tumult we should aim to keep the
flame of attention, high and brilliant for some
minutes.   These sacred minutes should recur
often during  the hours of meditation that
prepare the way  for them; and such mental
concentration  should be  the goal of every
student who  wishes to become  a success.
According to the Buddhists there are  five ob-
stacles to attention,  namely:  brutal  desire;
hatred and malice;  sloth of mind; disquiet
and  regrets;  perplexity and indecision.  If
the student cultivates the habit of attention he
will  escape  that somnolency of mind which
is neither a state of work nor of real repose.
He will add to his sum of leisure in propor-
tion to the energy of his moments of attention.
  It is to be noted also that voluntary atten-
                   [224] 
ATTENTION
tion is susceptible to training, that is to in-
crease and improvement.

     BREATHING AS A FACTOR IN ATTENTION
  Books on psychology are laden with meta-
physical discussions.  It is not within  our
province to explain whether or not there is
any mysterious intervention  of the  soul in
the act of attention. In this work of ours we
are dealing only with practicalities—we want
to know in order to act.  We do not know
what the attention is, we only know its func-
tions.  Its functions are closely allied with
our breathing.  For example, if you take aim
at something, even in imagination, with a rifle
or a pistol, you will discover that you can
not take aim, that is fix your attention, unless
you hold your breath.  Every modification of
the attention is necessarily accompanied by
modification in the rapidity  and depth of
breathing.
  The  Buddhist monks, who  developed the
education of the will to an admirable degree
of perfection  as a means of  concentration,
fully understood the importance of breathing
in the act of attention.  They  discovered the
control over thought that is inherent in the
[225] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
control of our breathing.  By training them-
selves to breathe twelve times per  minute,
then five or six, then once only, which requires
months of assiduous practise, they cast out of
their minds anger, hatred, disquiet and fear,
all of which  are poisonous to the will.  By
slow and deep breathing, we induce a condi-
tion of mind which is favorable to meditation,
for a great calm comes upon our heart beats.
We have  contracted the  lazy habit of  not
breathing  deeply.   We  inhale  and exhale
through one nostril only, and it requires con-
siderable practise to learn to breath through
both.  Yet even such an accomplishment is a
victory that  has a bearing on the power of
attention.  What  is more, as a result of  our
indoor life and the  unintelligent separation
of mental and manual labor, we have acquired
another bad habit.  This is that we use only
a part of our lungs in breathing.   Because of
such lack  of use our respiratory organs lose
somewhat  of their  full capacity  and conse-
quently there is a loss in the power of atten-
tion.
  The importance  given to the  control of
breathing by  the Buddhist monks  is based on
scientific knowledge, and our children should
[226] 
ATTENTION
be trained in this control from an early age.
I never set about my work until after I have
indulged in some exercises in deep breathing.
And these physical exercises should be  sup-
plemented by exercises in respiratory  will,
which are enjoined by the Hindu masters of
the meditative life.
  As we fix our attention only in the intervals
of breathing, our attention can not be uni-
form.  It consists in a succession of tensions,
which take place in the moments between the
respiratory  movements  and  cease during
these movements.  During one minute of at-
tention on the  part of a man of ample res-
piratory movements, there  occur a dozen in-
spirations and exhalations each of which con-
sumes  a little more than two seconds, making
a total of about  half a minute.  Therefore
during  one minute we  must conceive the
attention as formed of about a dozen tensions,
cut by so much repose during which the res-
piratory intake and  outgiving  is  effected.
We may compare the mechanism of the atten-
tion to the rays of the lamp in a lighthouse,
which every minute undergoes twelve eclipses
of two seconds  each.
  Among most children the loss of attention
                   [227] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
exceeds forty seconds per minute; and in
many it  goes as high as fifty or  fifty-five
seconds.  It exceeds even this high  figure in
children who are afflicted with growths in the
nose, cold in the head or have some pulmo-
nary complaint.
  It is important, then, that in cultivating our
powers of  attention we keep watch on the
rhythm of  respiration.  We have seen  that
deep breathing from the entire lungs leaves
long intervals of pause and therefore permits
of longer and more  fruitful efforts of the at-
tention.  As a matter  of fact the  greater
number of children and of adults do not know
how to breathe.  Let us  suppose the average
person attempts to climb a cliff.   Certain
unused cells in the lungs are suddenly and
violently called into action,  which causes a
whistling noise to proceed from the pulmo-
nary region.  In my own experience, I have
noted after numerous climbing  expeditions
in the  Alps, that  my  breathing remained
deeper for  a long time following, and so far-
ther spaced apart, with the result that I was
capable of  much more intense efforts of at-
tention.  It is true  also that if we  do intel-
lectual work in the country, between intervals
[ 228 J 
ATTENTION
of active physical effort,  our attention  is
deeper and more concentrated.
  This is one more argument against the per-
nicious practise of keeping children at study
for long periods of two or three hours in the
confinement of rooms in which they breathe
devitalized air.
  There can be no power of  attention with-
out pure air, which  stimulates the appetite
of the lungs.  It is necessary, consequently,
to stop work every so often, open all the
windows, and perform some energetic breath-
ing exercises. In a word, we should always
keep  general supervision of  the air  we
breathe toward the end that our respiratory
rhythm be facile and ample.  Walks in the
open air and sunlight, mountain climbing and
a little heavy work in the country are salu-
tary  aids in developing our breathing ap-
paratus.
  Of course, we should avoid any physical
pressure  on the thorax.  Thus, for instance,
among young women, a corset may hinder
intellectual growth by lessening the respira-
tory  capacity.
[229] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
   MECHANISM OF INTELLECTUAL FREEDOM
  The attention is,  moreover, closely con-
nected with other muscles  than the muscles
involved  in breathing.   Even  admitting
that the will and the attention, which  is the
superior form of the will, have an independ-
ent spiritual existence, they  are  so  deeply
"incarnate" in the human body that every-
thing occurs as if their relationship were in-
dissoluble.  The attention,  like the will, acts
only on the muscles and through the muscles.
The simple proof of this statement lies in the
fact that we can think only through  words,
and that a word is a marvellous agglomera-
tion of muscular memories: memories  visual
and graphic, and,  above  all, memories  of
articulation.  This condition  which at first
blush would seem humiliating to the spiritual
faculties,  really enfranchises  us and makes
us free beings of a moral  order.
  What after all is the matter  of  capital
importance to us?   It is  this, that we can
direct our attention,  that we are able to keep
an  idea, a thought in  the light of attention.
On the other hand, it  is imperative that we
be  able to  refuse to  permit an  idea or  a,
[230] 
ATTENTION
thought to live and develop.  This liberative
power we can exercise and strengthen solely
through our muscles.
  By way of explanation let us consider what
happens when the will intervenes in the pro-
cession  of thoughts, images, memories and
ideas that move constantly across the lumi-
nous  portal  of the mind,  like a  succession
of moving pictures.  The figures  formed by
the grouping of the individual elements of
this  procession, and  by their appearances,
are of very great variety.  Images, memories
and ideas foregather  and pass on according
to the laws  of the association of ideas in a
realm of chance and disarray. To understand
this  statement we  need only ponder for a
moment on the capricious play of these asso-
ciations of ideas.  Mont Blanc suggests to my
mind the Caucasus; the Caucasus,  the Turks;
the Turks, " Candide ";" Candide," Voltaire,
who wrote it; Voltaire, Fernay, the  place
where Voltaire lived for twenty years.  This
is a fair specimen of the thousands of absurd
vagaries that occur in everybody's mind.
  It is sheer incoherence, which is the natural
state  of the intelligence  in repose.  But we
must  not confuse  this  state  of mind with
[231] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
madness, which is systemized under the influ-
ence of insane ideas.  Thus a young woman in
the toils of morbid jealousy subjects realities
to the distortions of her morbid mind.  Any
facts that run counter to  her prepossession,
she refuses to credit; and with energetic at-
tention fixes her mind on those that confirm it.
Passions and partizanship operate as  does
madness, the characteristic trait of which is
that the composition and  march of caravans
of images, memories and  ideas is no longer
governed by realities. Madness is the condition
of thought when it 'has become impervious
to experience.  If you take an insane  person
out to the middle of a desert, and ask him to
judge by his own senses that there is no enemy
there to insult or injure him, he will  have a
brief moment of good sense; but soon you will
be beset with his stubborn refusal to admit the
reality, to believe his personal experience of
the absurdity of his hallucination.
  Between the incoherence of the associations
of ideas, which is the normal state of thought
in repose,  and their unbreakable coherence
among the insane, lie the associations of ideas
directed by the will.
  How does intervention  of the will  occur?
[232] 
ATTENTION
If you close your eyes, in the silence all about
you the incoherent procession of associated
ideas passes and passes unremittingly.  If at
this moment some unexpected sound is heard,
as for instance, the supplicatory scratching
of the cat at the door, this brusque entry of
an external perception into  the association
of ideas changes its course.   Thus it is im-
possible to continue one's train of thought if
there burst suddenly on our ears the strains
of martial music; and it is  impossible to
meditate in a noisy place because the fragile
strands that bind our reflections together are
broken by the harsh sounds that force them-
selves on our consciousness.
  This  violence of interruption  which shat-
ters  our association of ideas, becomes a lib-
erating force if we make intelligent use of it.
Just as we tame the lightning and harness it
to our railways so also we may voluntarily
draw upon the interruptive force to  shatter
associations of ideas that embarrass us or to
help us  to set new associations in train.  This
draft on an external foreign force, to act in
a police capacity on mental associations, con-
stitutes our freedom.
  The mechanism which ensures our intel-
[233 i 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
lectual liberty is so important that we must
dwell upon it at greater length.  Two kinds of
cases are to be considered.  In one  case  a
certain unfolding of associated ideas bothers
or constrains us, and we wish to  break the
thread and expel the ideas from our mind. In
the other case we are holding a sequence of
ideas by a slender connecting thread, which
threatens to snap at any moment. The  images
of our ideas  are scarcely distinct and we wish
to make them firm, clear and lasting.
  As an example of a series of ideas of which
we wish to rid ourselves, let us suppose that
we have an association  of ideas which  has
been released by some painful thought, by
that feeling which is  intolerable to a proud
soul, namely, the sense of an injustice done to
us. We find no solace in the thought that our
superior, who is responsible for such an act
of injustice,  is of limited intelligence,  that he
is of ill-natured disposition, or in the recol-
lection of Plato's argument that it is better
to suffer an injustice than to commit one. Nor
is there any satisfaction for us in  the reflec-
tion that almost all persons  in positions of
authority, because  they  are heedless   and
never stop to  think,  are mere automatons
[234] 
ATTENTION
set in motion by outside suggestion, for which
they are not responsible. Nor are we consoled
by the positive conviction that to allow one's
peace of mind to be dependent on the opinion
of such persons, is a bondage "as abject as
that of the subject of a hypnotist."  In a word
none of  the suggestions that  occur to  the
philosophic  temper is  equal to the  task of
blotting out the train  of troublous  associa-
tions within us.   This  is  the case  because
under the influence of acute feeling  associa-
tion of ideas tend, as in madness, to become
the stronger the more they are opposed.
  What are we to do in such a plight?   We
must supplant  the  troublous  associations
that harass  our mind with  new impressions.
In grave instances nothing is more salutary
than to have recourse  to  some very light
manual labor, which prevents the mind from
straying  idly. Automobile riding is a very
efficient  counter-irritant for persons  who
have no particular business to occupy their
daily lives.   Grave cases can be cured only
by a complete change of occupation.  This is
the one means by which the human conscious-
ness may be laid  open  to  a torrent of new
impressions, which will banish burdensome
                  [235] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

ideas, just as when we open the shutters of
a room to the sunlight all artificial light in
the room ceases to be visible.
  Ordinarily we seek the aid of changed im-
pressions  to break irritating associations of
ideas by having recourse to means always at
our disposal. Among these are certain words
of our mother tongue, which I have described
as "the agglomeration  of muscular memo-
ries."  We may set a new current of thought
in motion  by saying  aloud to ourselves some
such phrase as:  "I will be master of myself.
It is misery to be bound by chains of thought
that one is adverse  to."  Or we may utter
aloud some expressions  caught up  in our
reading, which reverberate in  the mind and
so, as it were, inhale the fragrance and stim-
ulus of " a spiritual bouquet'' gathered in the
gardens of the great moralists.  A still more
efficacious remedy is to write, and thus force
the  associations of  ideas to follow the di-
rection of  our own choice.
  It is the duty of each  one of  us to  learn
through personal experience what agencies
usually bring on that victorious irruption in
our consciousness by  which we are freed from
tyrannical associations of ideas.
[236] 
ATTENTION
  In  previous  chapters of this  volume we
have  considered  the thoughts and feelings
that avail us in the struggle against sugges-
tions  of indolence.
  The great difficulty, however, is not always
to find a means to break the chains of op-
pressive  associations of ideas.  In intellect-
ual work the main objective is to keep in the
glow  of the attention a definite idea, and to
make it the center of attraction and of or-
ganization.  If we find it difficult to define and
fix a certain idea, we should have recourse to
books on the subject this  idea  represents.
As  the child that learns a lesson by heart,
we  should say aloud significant phrases and
utter  expressive ideas on the subject.  Better
still, we should write them.  The  support af-
forded our powers of attention in the spoken
and written  word is the foundation of the
note system.  Nothing is so helpful to con-
tinuity of thought as to be able to summarize
it in a few succinct phrases.
  The famous Catholic  directors  of  con-
science, who  have  penetrated so  deeply into
the secrets of the  reactions  of  the  soul,
realized  the  necessity  of  external  aids
for worship.  In truth, the external aids are
                  [237] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
only adjuncts to the internal effort, for which
they can not serve as a substitute.  They are
a necessary adjunct, however, because of the
weakness of voluntary attention.
  Leibnitz  declares himself in his Systema
Theologicum as follows: " I can not share the
belief of those who,  under the pretext  of
adoring in  spirit and in truth, cast out of di-
vine worship everything that appeals to the
senses and the imagination, for they do not
sufficiently  reckon  with human   fallibility.
Whoever reflects on the nature of the human
mind, as it lies  imprisoned in the human
body, will readily admit that tho we are able
to form ideas within the mind of certain ob-
jects that do not come under notice of the
senses, we can not nevertheless fix  our atten-
tion on them, nor grave them deep in our soul
without  the aid of some external adjuncts
.  .  . and these adjuncts are the more effica-
cious the more expressive they are in them-
selves."  The  Catholic  Church has never
overlooked  the influence of symbolic actions,
such as  kneeling,  crossing oneself  with  holy
water, praying aloud, chants and ceremonies,
all  of which  are  symbolistic to the highest
degree of knowledge.   In order to keep  our
                   [238 ] 
ATTENTION
attention fixt  in  study,  we should have  a
store of stimulating thoughts to sustain the
will, remotely comparable to the beads of the
rosary, that invention of the  genius  of St.
Dominic, by which means the  person  at
prayer is better able to keep his mind concen-
trated on his devotions.
  The counsel of Nicole, .the French moralist
and theologian, that we must*decline to "lend
the ministry of our  members to the rambling
of the  mind," has often  served  me to good
purpose. When my vagabond mind impelled
me to move about and consult various books
at random, pending the  moment of inspira-
tion for work, or  else  when I felt like  taking
a glance at the morning newspaper, I simply
remained seated at  my desk and did not stir
a  foot.  By inhaling deeply and  exhaling
slowly, I gradually mastered my inconstancy
and fidgetiness  of mind.   At such mo-
ments  if  I sit  still  and  stubborn at my
work table, and actually force myself to take
pen in hand and begin to write,  it is seldom
indeed that I do not find  my  rebellion of
spirit against work flee before such external
aids toward concentration.
  Often, just before I sit  down to work, I
[ 239] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
repeat the  admirable  counsel  of  Marcus
Aurelius: "At  every  hour, remember  earn-
estly, as  a Roman and as a  man, that you
are to perform the task in hand, in strict and
simple seriousness, with heart, with freedom,
with justice; and that  you are to rid yourself
meanwhile of all thoughts foreign  to this
task.  And you will be able to rid yourself of
all  such  thoughts if you perform each task
as if it were the last of your life."
  Each of us should take note of the external
aids that are beneficial  to us individually in
order that we may have them  at call in time
of need.   But,  it must be remembered, that
after all, these are only aids to work and that
the indispensable need is that energy of will
which  is  confident, and through  which  we
engage in  any and all  effort  with calm  de-
termination.
         ATTENTION AND SENTIMENT
  The third fact to be learned about the at-
tention is that it is an emotional power as is
the  will.  Great powers  of  attention  are
caused and sustained  by feeling, by some in-
clination which expresses the deepest  sensi-
bility of the individual  character. We have
[240] 
ATTENTION
seen that once a student has experienced the
intense joy  of creative work, we need have
no further concern about his industry.  The
fire has been kindled within him and it will
not die.  We shall not dwell upon this point
inasmuch as we have devoted a chapter to the
feelings that should be the support of atten-
tion.  In "The Education of the Will," also,
there is a chapter of value on the intelligent
application of feeling in the formation of the
will.
  Incidently we must always bear in mind
that however adroit we become in the act of
bringing attention  into action, it remains a
delicate and fragile instrument.  So we must
always deal  with it thriftily and never waste
it in an effort for which  we have not fully
prepared the way.
         SINGLING OUT DIFFICULTIES
  We return now to the  fundamental prin-
ciple  that we must do only  one thing at a
time. We should imitate the practise of the
pike in pursuit of its prey.  Even if it cross
the trail of other prey easier to secure, it does
not alter its course, but continues in pursuit
of the first objective.  Why do we insist  on
[241] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
this rule?  Because the attention requires a
clearly defined objective.  Do not think that
if we focus the  attention on two objectives
it will divide itself equally.   Divided,  the
force of the attention is zero, and scattered,
it ceases to exist.
  On one occasion when it was necessary for
me  to speak to an earnest young woman
graduate of the Normal School about certain
deficiencies  in her work, she confest to me
despondently that  she was unable to  see
things accurately and that everything *' went
round and round before her eyes."  I told
her that on Monday she  should look only at
floors and think of them and nothing else; on
Tuesday she was to look at ceilings,  on an-
other day at side-walls, on the next, at objects
hanging on the walls, and so on.  She told me
later  that from  the time she practised this
exercise of  concentration her work became
easy.
  It is because  clearness and simplicity of
outline relieve mind tension, that  practical
means, to which I have on a previous occasion
given the name of "maps and atlas,"  render
great  service to  thought  and  afford all
the  advantages of order in ideas as the sub-
[242] 
ATTENTION
stitute for confusion.   The  imperative  de-
mand of the attention for order and clearness
is the foundation also of the great pedagogic
law which requires that for the child, as for
ourselves, we link the unknown to the known.
We do not grasp anything that we do not pre-
imagine.
         INFLUENCE OF PREPARATION
  Because  the attention  operates, like  the
light of a lighthouse, by intermittent flashes,
it happens that if, for example,  we fix  our
attention on an unknown stretch of territory
we scarcely see more at the first glance than
if we first saw that landscape in a flash of
lightning on a dark night.  Gradually, if we
have used our eyes methodically, various par-
ticular sections appear as on the photog-
rapher's plate  when it is  placed  in the de-
veloping bath.   Then  with each  additional
flash  of  lightning our perception becomes
more comprehensive and more accurate.
  Nevertheless, if  we had previously studied
a photograph or painting of this  landscape,
at the very first flash of the lightning of the
attention  our perception would  have been
                   [243] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

supplemented and would in consequence be
more  comprehensive.
  Classic examples reveal the fact that the
time required to realize the perception of an
object, of a phrase, of a figure illuminated for
the duration of a second, is much less when
the person undergoing the experience looks
forward to this  or that sort of appearance.
He anticipates it in a sense by a bound of the
imagination, instead of remaining wholly in-
active and just waiting.
  On  this account, in order to husband the
precious powers of attention and to render
perception easy,  it is useful to prepare sedu-
lously the object  of one's study or treatment.
For example,  before  I undertook  to write
this chapter I went over all my notes and re-
called all  my personal experiences on the
subject of the powers of attention.  Then I
considered what was worth retaining in this
mass  of evidence and by a process of elimina-
tion secured a residue of essential  informa-
tion on the subject.  Then setting myself to
work, I "attacked" my subject with all the
vigor of my mind, which moved forward to
meet the truth half-way, with a pre-imagined
outline of the whole question,  and,  if I may
[244] 
ATTENTION
say so, it moved in a kind of diffused light
comparable to that of dawn which precedes
the sunrise.  That is what I mean when I
urge that we should not lead our attention
to the "attack" until we have made adequate
preparation.
  There  is one other important  considera-
tion.  When we make intense efforts of atten-
tion, that "prayer of the soul to the truth"
may not be heard; or, to resume our earlier
metaphor, if our "attack" fails, this failure
can, in many cases,  be  remedied by a few
added moments of perseverance.  We have
previously cited by way of example the capit-
ulation of Metz.  If the capitulation had been
set for one day later, if the second army had
arrived one day later before Orleans Wood,
the Germans would have raised the siege of
Paris.  At Port Arthur if the Russian fleet
had  held out  for five  minutes  longer  the
Japanese fleet would have retired, for it had
exhausted its ammunition.
  The same law of perseverance holds in  the
battle for truth.  In my own experience I
have often remarked that important progress
rewards  my extended  effort when, despite
heavy fatigue, I toil a little while longer.  If
                  [245] 
_______WILL-POWER AND WORK________

I had yielded to the feeling of fatigue I should
have left my task without its natural com-
pensation.   Instead  I  should have had  the
feeling that I had not made any real progress.
I should have been obliged to begin all over
again under less  favorable  conditions and
therefore with fewer chances of success.
  It is plain, therefore, that we must study
thoroughly the conditions which produce fre-
quent and energetic attention.  Then, before
we set ourselves actually to our task, we must
prepare the way with minute care, even to
the smallest detail.   This is possible only
when our minds are completely free from all
thoughts unrelated to our task so that we
avoid any division of energy.
[246] 
II
                  MEMORY

   Educators have followed the same course
 of procedure as wasteful tillers of the soil in
 taking nature as  she is, with  all her prodi-
 gality.  The routine of land cultivation is fol-
 lowed without reflection, and the results are
 rather worse than better. The earliest comers,
 the foresters, surveyed the  forests and cut
 down certain trees in too thickly wooded sec-
 tions, in  order  that others  might  prosper.
 They allowed only the finest trees to remain
 and  cared wisely  for them,  with the result
 that their forests  consist of splendid speci-
 mens of trees rising like columns toward the
 heavens and suggesting the pillars of majestic
 cathedrals. The more prudent farmers, after
 sundry experiments, adopted two methods of
wheat cultivation  which increased their re-
 turns tenfold. First they selected for planting
 purposes  the choicest grains from the fields
 of heaviest yield;  and,  secondly, they sowed
[247] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

the seed at widely spaced intervals to permit
root expansion.  . .  .
  The farmers who do not follow this eco-
nomical and profitable system  of  planting
have  the  birds, insects,  natural decay and
frost to help them in thinning out seeds that
are too thickly sown; but we can not defend
any such  defective  and fortuitous  method
when  there  is question  of planting  the
seeds of memory.   The memory  of a col-
lege graduate is a hopeless tangle in which
a  multitude of  reproductive  recollections
prevent thoughts and ideas of  value  from
expanding in vigorous growth.
  There is no process of selection at the por-
tal of such a memory. Indeed, in the memory
of every one of us, recollections multiply rap-
idly from inaccurate perceptions.   Errone-
ous ideas thrive in our minds because we learn
a great number of words before we have care-
fully  studied  the  things   they designate.
Moreover, because  we do  not exercise our
critical sense,  we confuse the diverse mean-
ings of words that have some affinity.  A more
serious error of which we are  guilty is to
substitute  words for objects.
  It would be impossible to estimate the size
[248 5 
MEMORY
and contents of the mass of confused ideas,
lies and sophisms that slowly seep into even
well-ordered minds through reading and con-
versation.   Facts, ideas,  opinions of whose
origin we know nothing are installed in our
mind  and like the bird that finds a cuckoo's
eggs in its nest and hatches- them, we adopt
these  beliefs,  wholly unsuspicious of  their
dangerous possibilities.
  For example,  a great  many persons be-
lieve  that free spending is. helpful to  trade
because  they  see the results  of  spending;
but  such  persons  fail  to  appreciate  the
very much greater benefits that result  from
money employed in  sustaining and stimula-
ting energy of production.  We speak offhand
of young nations and of  old, and therefore
decadent, nations. The distinction is an ab-
surd one because all nations, young and old,
are made up of individuals of all ages; and
nations are decadent only through the fail-
ure of their governments to make proper use
of citizens of vigorous intelligence and ener-
getic will.
  Men in the learned professions often suffer
themselves to  be obstructed by false ideas of
which they can not rid themselves. In the field
[ 249 ] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
of medicine and sociology there are hosts of
accepted ideas which are stumbling-blocks to
many. In the field of philosophy we find the
soil very favorable to words  without mean-
ing, such as "soul" and "free will," and it
has been said, not without a modicum of jus-
tice, that metaphysics is " a. malady of words.''
Even on  the subject of memory, which we are
considering, for a long time old fixt opinions
stood in the way of the discovery of the com-
plexity of the slightest recollection—the re-
collection of a word, for  instance, which I
shall explain presently.
  In politics most of the words that dwell in
the brains of the voters should be re-analyzed
and cleansed of alloy. Nearly all of them are
instinct with a sense of hatred or  with illu-
sion.   The tragic follies of the Russian revo-
lution constitute a gigantic experiment prov-
ing what terrible danger is involved in the be-
lief that men  are wise and intelligent, when
really the majority is made up of individuals
who  are weak-minded,  ignorant, undisci-
plined, violent and envious.
  It might be hazarded that  the brain of a
man  of  the twentieth century is inferior in
seed-thought to the brain of a man of the
[250] 
MEMORY
same class  of  the  seventeenth  century, be-
cause in our over-hurried life and in our in-
capacity for sustained, calm, persevering ef-
fort we are not so watchful over the portals
of memory of our children. A well-cultivated
memory presupposes selective reading.   The
seed to be sowed in such a memory must be
carefully chosen, and this choice requires re-
fined sensibility and acute critical perception,
which means a  sense of that  which is right
and efficacious.
  No idea should be  allowed to lodge in the
memory which is tainted with vanity, hatred,
jealousy, fear,  covetousness  or  prejudice.
Ideas of mere ungoverned impulse, incapable
of sustained examination, and ideas of frivol-
ity also  should  be barred.  Only such facts
should be stored in the memory as have passed
through the crucible of experience, and have
been thoroughly settled in meditation. There
must be neither too great precipitation  nor
too great resistance: this in itself is the form-
ula of a free mind, since by a free mind is
presupposed ability to control  passion  and
prejudice and calmly to wait for the discovery
of truth.  Truth is  a reward which we earn
[251] 
_______WILL-POWER AND WORK_______

through conscientious work and persevering
attention.

     LOSSES THROUGH USELESS LEARNING

  It is unfortunate, but true, that memory,
which is the daughter of mental freedom, and
should be a powerful aid to our will, only too
often becomes a source of mental serfdom.
Minute by minute, memory makes record of
our perceptions, of our hasty conclusions, of
what we read, think and do. But if we do not
make a definite and deliberate choice among
the matters stored in our memory, a choice
is made for us quite beyond  our  inclination
of will.   By this I mean that recollections
bound up with the lively energy of some par-
ticular tendency take on additional strength.
Now, in youth  especially, the dominating ten-
dencies  more  often than  not are those we
should struggle against  daily in order to
secure our freedom of mind.  It is not aston-
ishing, therefore, that the memory  of so many
persons is encumbered with  sensual images
and recollections; and, what is more, that so
many young people, who ignore the rigorous
exactitude of  the Incorruptible Accountant,
[252] 
MEMORY
provide for his record only idle reveries, evil
or profitless conversation and  reading, so
that one fine day they find themselves incom-
petent and ill-equipped for the struggle in
which they must fail because of their lack of
preparedness.
  But we are not studying memory from the
standpoint of the education of the will.  Let
us be mindful only that, if we do not take the
management of our memory in hand, the de-
cay of the will is inevitable.  Inevitable also
is the decay of the intelligence.
  It has  been stated  above that ev.en  the
healthiest memories  are  encumbered with
valueless  recollections.  How  could it be
otherwise?  In our childhood how many un-
reasonable and futile conversations have we
not heard, and how many trifling and worth-
less books have we not read?
  As we advance in years, our brain is over-
loaded  with an  encyclopedia of ill-digested
ideas—because of the lack of correct educa-
tional  methods—and if we  forget  any of
these ill-digested ideas  it is by mere accident.
I am startled when I recall the vast amount
of pseudo-knowledge my instructors sought
to pound into my youthful memory.  To-
[253 ] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
day, all I can remember of the entire impedi-
menta are certain fragments and quotations,
useful only for such conversations as require
neither  depth nor  exactitude.   If each of
us were  to draw up an honest balance of
the  assets he  possesses  from his  school
and  college  days,   the  sum  total  would
prove surprizing.
  Incidentally I may say that my annual ac-
quaintance with theses offered in qualification
for the bachelor's degree convinces me more
and more of the prodigious inefficiency of our
encyclopedic  system of instruction.  Only a
general blindness on this  point, due  to the
force of accustomed routine, prevents a ma-
jority of thinking men from rising in protest
against such a wasteful method.   But the
harm is done as far as the persons to whom
I am addressing this book are concerned; and
it were futile for them to reject the past,
which can  not be altered.  They should fix
their gaze on the present and resolve  within
themselves to respect  the laws of  memory.
No one may violate  them with impunity; and
they must be learned and followed along well-
designed plans.  By this I mean that the laws
of memory must not be cultivated in hap-
                   [254] 
MEMORY
hazard fashion or according to the unintelli-
gent traditions that impede intellectual effort.
  The ills we have suffered in our educational
years are many.  Therefore we  must take
heed lest we increase their number that they
become so great as to be beyond  correction,
and instead of having a memory in our favor,
we have a memory inimical to us.  The mis-
fortune  of such an accumulation  of pseudo-
knowledge  is,  as  Malebranche  points  out,
that "when  a man's mind is filled and con-
tent with the imitations of learning and also
swollen with pride, he is contemptuous of the
labor of attention.  .  .  . If he have  not the
hunger for truth, he can not fix his determina-
tion to  earn in the sweat  of his brow the
bread of the soul."

  NUMBER OF THINGS KNOWN UNIMPORTANT
  To organize  our memory  properly perse-
vering efforts of attention are required, for
the point of chief importance is to be able to
lay hold of what we know at the moment we
need it.  However copious our store of things
known, it is  of small use to us if we can not
quickly  draw on the depths of memory for
our needs in time of action.  At the battle of
[255J 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
Wagram victory was won by a handful of
brave soldiers, for 13,000 cowards feigned
death rather than fight.  The  recollections
that count are those that do not feign death,
but obey the command to fight.  Montaigne
probably had such wideawake recollections in
mind  when by way of contrast he spoke of
"bloated and puffy minds."   But we must
not imitate Gargantua, who was the victim of
a stupid instructor, and who knew his lesson
so well that'' at his examination he recited it
backward."
  We would better follow the method of the
Alpine climber and limit our equipment to
the minimum; and then throw away half of
what remains. Too great a mass of detail is
hurtful  to thorough culture.  We must pick
and choose and deliberately shape our mem-
ory to become an instrument  of convenience
and practicability.
  The brain has 600,000,000 cells, but never-
theless,  it is  not  capable  of  unlimited  ac-
quisitions.   The Chinese  language  has 40,-
000 characters and consequently is  an im-
possible burden even for persons  of ample
brain  capacity. A naturalist must study and
observe for a lifetime in order to know three
[256] 
MEMORY
of four thousand  species of plants  and no
one man can know the 200,000 kinds of flower-
ing plants, nor the 600,000 kinds of the animal
species.  Even if it were possible to acquire
it, such knowledge would be absurd, for it
would overwhelm the intelligence.
  We must learn to limit our scope of know-
ledge so that we do not bury our minds in a
mass of acquired recollections.  We must as-
pire to learn the essential things and to re-
tain only  such thoughts as have bearing on
the profound substantiality of things. Masses
of detail information may be safely left in
books and note-books. Let us sweep them out
of our mind where  only memories of  high
value should be treasured.  To these mem-
ories we must devote an intensity that gives
them fixity in our mind.
      SLOW GROWTH OF IDEAS OF VALUE
  Valuable ideas, it  should be noted, do not
customarily impress one at the first glance.
They grow slowly and deliberately in their im-
pression, while always becoming stronger and
more striking.  This process requires  calm
and time.  The  idea of value may be  com-
pared to a plant that requires time to spread
                   [257] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
its roots widely, in order to secure a sufficient
supply of nourishing juices from the earth.
We may even say that an idea does not acquire
its full vigor until it draws upon the sap of
some fundamental tendency.  Feverish haste
in our method, or the scattering of the atten-
tion on several ideas  makes such a nourish-
ing process impossible.
  By way of illustration I may tell you that
for years I was puzzled to find a satisfactory
explanation  for the rapid decadence  of the
civilization  of  ancient  Greece  and  Rome.
The accepted reason advanced in histories is,
that decay ensued on the accumulation  of
great wealth and  the consequent lowering of
the standard of human character.   This is
not cause  sufficient in itself to my mind, for
it does not  show the like result in modern
history.
  The problem was not solved for me until I
beheld the collapse of Russia.  Then I per-
ceived  the full  significance of the fact  that
proscriptions in Athens and Rome had made
men of character and personality an extinct
species. It was the extinction of minds that
could  not stoop to low cunning.  This dis-
appearance of the higher grades of  intelli-
[258] 
MEMORY
gence was the underlying cause of the decad-
ence of the  ancient democracies which be-
came  barren as a desert.
  To  the same cause also we may trace the
downfall of Spain.  This  country  was alive
and flourishing when the Moors, Jews and
Catholics competed under the conditions of
liberty before the advent of the sinister Philip
II.  (In less than two centuries the population
of Spain fell from thirty millions to seven.)
The Inquisition took off the cream of the finest
minds of Spain.  The Spanish Jews were ex-
iled, the Moors were  chased to  Africa, and
harsh  Germanic  Caesarism  completed the
ruin of the Iberian genius.
  As we were saying, the collapse of the Rus-
sian Empire may be ascribed to  the  same
cause.  Under the Czarist regime there was
a systematic destruction of all men of char-
acter and of all minds of vigor.  So it came
to pass, under a few months of the Maximalist
domination, with its tocsin of hate  and envy,
that all such were murdered whom  the previ-
ous despotism had  not exterminated.
  Here in  France  the like  danger is not
so great, yet, because of a defective electoral
system, we  must have  trepidation  about the
                   [259] 
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future lest men of  character be  too  often
thrust aside from the higher functions of our
political and administrative  economy.  We
have risked disaster for want of men of mind
and  energy who do not chicane with the
realities of politics.
  This perennial thought has become  more
dominant in my mind by  the emphasis of ac-
tual instances.  As I see it, there is but one
criterion by which to  judge the head of a gov-
ernment, which is:  Does  he do all that in his
power lies to discover  men of initiative, up-
rightness and energy to  be in charge of his
chief  departments?  That is the  essential
adequacy of governmental direction.   If he
does not so acquit himself of the responsi-
bilities of his office, the result is a public mis-
fortune and the country is on the road  to
catastrophe.
  We have seen that an idea must grow in
the mind for years in order to attain  vigor
and influence.  It must have time to spread
its roots; and it is doomed to impotence and
sterility if the attention is  constantly dis-
tracted by the incursion of other ideas.  The
very laws of memory draw us up sharply to
                  [260] 
MEMORY
our capital principle: one thing at a time and
that one thing to its depths.
  A single impression is not sufficient to fix
the memory  of  even  the  most simple fact.
In  time  this impression  becomes  blurred
and, as it were, covered with rust like a piece
of iron. The impression of the fact loses its
brilliance and sharpness of outline until grad-
ually  its form disappears completely.  Con-
sider, for instance, what remains of your im-
pression of  the  sight of  a mountain  that
struck your gaze with wonder.  Try  to make
a sketch of this mountain, and you will be
amazed at the poverty and inexactness of
your  impression.  The same is true of the
first reading of some book which is a master-
piece.
  It may  be averred, therefore, that any
single impression is always insufficient.  We
must  frequently recall our acute attention to
the fact or the chapter of a book which we
wish  to keep fixt in our memory ... As
it is necessary that we recall frequently the
impressions of facts, so it is of equal necessity
that we  confine  our  attention to essential
facts, and  that we  make  record  of  them in
plainly readable notes which may be referred
                   [261] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
to often in our moments of solitude.  In such
form I had  record of the "Meditations" of
Descartes, of the important chapters of  the
Philosophy  of Sir William Hamilton,  the
Logic of John Stuart Mill and of the essen-
tials of the  Psychology of Herbert Spencer,
with the result  that after thirty years  my
recollections of these authors on these sub-
jects are still clear.
   So it is evident that the necessity of re-
freshing our memory on essential facts is a
matter of nutrition.  Our nervous forces  na-
turally tend to revert to their normal status,
so that we must, by frequent repetition, in-
corporate memories in them in such fashion
that they can not be effaced.  All physical  and
mental conditions cooperate or conflict with
the fixation of the memory. The requirement
of a healthy circulation of the blood as well
as the  necessity of frequent and intense ex-
ercise  of the attention  are  denied  us if we
indulge in long hours of pseudo-effort and lazy
reading, which impede  and impoverish  our
circulatory  and breathing systems.  Brain-
workers, who have no means of diversion in
manual effort, do not know how to pass their
leisure hours and acquire the habit of long
                  [262] 
MEMORY
sittings over books or reviews, which is the
continuance of the practise of spending hours
without moving  that  they learned in their
student days.
  Such stagnation depletes our energies and
spoils our speed and reach of mind.  As soon
as we feel that our mental energy is slacken-
ing, we should quit our study for some effort
in manual toil.   Such a change improves our
intellectual powers.
  To sum up, we must do one thing at a time,
refrain from scattering our attention, desist
from lazy hours of pseudo-effort that render
our blood stagnant, so that when we do study
we have our attention all alive, alert and con-
stant.

        Capital importance of words
  We can not think without the aid of words,
which are of invaluable service to us; but our
disinclination to exert  ourselves  is such that
we  throw ourselves in full  dependence on
them heedless of the moving realities of which
they are the symbols.  In his "Experimental
Science" Claude Bernard says  justly  that
even in the sciences, language is only an ap-
proximation, for if one overlooks  the phenom-
                  [263] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
enon of vision to depend wholly on words, one
very soon  strays  away from reality.  The
word memory prevents us from consideration
of the fact that there  is no  such thing as
memory, but memories, or to say better, there
are only recollections.  Each recollection has,
so to speak, its individuality and is probably
bound up with special elements of the nervous
system.  So it follows that a certain recollec-
tion is more readily at our disposal if it be
less isolated and more closely related to other
recollections.  Thus the recollection of words
is marvellously tractable because it is solidly
imbedded in four different cells  of the mem-
ory. To explain:  I hear a word—that is my
auditory recollection; I see a word written—
that is my visual recollection; I write a word
—that is my graphic recollection; I pronounce
a word—that is my articulate recollection.
  Such recollections are separate, for we may
lose one through illness and the others remain
unaffected.  What is  more, several of these
recollections- possess the considerable advan-
tage of containing muscular elements which
we can re-evoke with ease. Thus,  I  can pro-
nounce a word, I can write it, and I can read
it mentally by a movement of the eyes.  These
[264] 
MEMORY
muscular movements' which  correspond to
words are so usual and familiar and they have
become perfect and of such high  sensitivity
that we need only the mere inclination toward
the movements in  order  to think.  For ex-
ample it has been  proved through cases of
aphasia that you do not understand an orator
except by repeating his discourse as he utters
it.  Likewise, reader, you understand what I
have written here only by pronouncing what
you read.  Yet this muscular repetition is so
delicate and slight  that we  ourselves do not
notice it, and to reveal it  we must call in the
aid of scientific instruments.
  Because  of the existence of  these muscular
elements, so docile  to our will, words should
be the chief means of our mental liberation.
Indeed, we can put this control over our as-
sociations of ideas either  to protract them or
to cut them short, as we will.
  It is for this reason that profound Catholic
psychologists  advise refuge  in reading, in
oral prayer or in the recitation of a psalm
when the spirit is agitated by vague, useless
or pernicious thoughts.  The introduction of
the controlling factor of  words into vagrant
associations of ideas leads the spirit to fortify
[265] 
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itself'little by little with meanings suggested
by words, and so our thoughts find themselves,
despite  themselves, guided along the right
path.
  Likewise words* afford' us an almost infalli-
ble medium to re-evoke our recollections and
stabilize them.  We are able to re-evoke them
because through the muscular  elements  em-
ployed we hold them at our disposal, and we
are able also to re-evoke the recollections they
connote.  We are able to stabilize them be-
cause they are fixt in our memory by the
four roots of the muscular elements, and so
are immune to forgetfulness;  and when we
have the words at our disposal we have at the
same  time the chain of which  they are the
first link.
  The connection established through the four
roots of words was discovered  by psycho-
logical research, yet neglected for a long time
in our system of elementary education. When
I learned  to realize the intelligent use of the
basic  cooperation of the four  root  recollec-
tions of the word, I proposed the abolition of
the absurd system of dictation in the teaching
of spelling.  The  teaching of spelling should
be restrictive in the sense  that it confine it-
[ 266] 
MEMORY
self to fixing correctly in the mind the four
roots of memory attaching to a newly intro-
duced word.  It is easy then to invent means
by which a child re-evokes as often as needed
the  four  images—visual, auditory,  graphic
and  articulate.  By this  method children
learn spelling without trouble and they never
forget what they have so learned.

          VALUE OF ASSOCIATED IDEAS
   On this point it is to be noted that whenever
we can, we should so dispose of  things re-
membered that all which  bear on one particu-
lar  subject lend  one another mutual aid.
Every isolated recollection is difficult to draw
upon because of its lack  of relationship with
some other recollection.  This is why a proper
name, remembered solely as a name, is difficult
to recall when it is needed.  A thing remem-
bered is always  better fixt in our memory
and more easily summoned to mind when it is
related to one or more other things  remem-
bered.
  This is a law of capital importance in edu-
cation.  Consider, for example, the transla-
tion of  a  passage from  Caesar.  We  should
follow the march of his army on the map of
[267] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
Gaul and make a sketch of his progress.  We
should verify the meaning of ancient tech-
nical expressions in our  memory and draw
sketches of the objects described.  As the re-
sult of having made many sketches of the
Battle of Alesia and the operations of Caesar
in the neighborhood of this place, I have an
indelible impression of the pages of Caesar's
"Commentaries" treating  of this  decisive
conflict.  Also, when on a railway journey I
saw from the train the  massive statue of
Vercingetorix on a hill, all my recollections of
Caesar's great book came  back to my mind in
clear and precise lines.
  Suppose  we view some piece  of  woven
cloth under a microscope? We should im-
mediately make a sketch of what we have seen
and then compare our drawing with an illus-
tration of the same  object.  Then we should
make such corrections in our own drawing as
are necessary and write  a short description
under it, enlivened by some apt comparison
or striking image.
  Any study of geography should be rendered
concrete  by the  accompaniment of  rough
drawings made from memory, and then  rec-
tified. The contour of each country, the limits
[268] 
MEMORY
of each body of water  should be compared
with the corresponding  features of the map
of France.  We have a clearer idea of the
Mississippi  when  we realize that,  with  its
tributary, the Missouri  River, it reaches  six
times farther than the distance from Dunkirk
to Perpignan; and yet it is not so long as the
Nile.   The  proportions of the geographical
extent of France  should be made familiar to
us in childhood.
  Similarly, geometry, which we teach in  an
abstract and unattractive manner, should  be
linked up with carpentry and cabinet work,
and with surveying, by diagrams showing the
measurements of land, the height of a tree, a
belfry, a hill, etc.
  The cooperative movement of our recollec-
tions has more than the  resource of words,
writing, drawing and manual effort, because
every idea that we keep in our mind becomes
a centre of organization.  It spreads out roots
to enrich itself with memories, observations,
personal experiences, comparisons and  im-
ages  that combine to make up its entirety.
  In  considering  the importance of the  co-
operative aid  afforded by  recollections  we
have  seen various proofs of it, as in the very
[269] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
characteristic fourfold memory attaching to
words.  The development of this cooperation
is possible only in a calm state of mind, un-
disturbed by  haste  or  scattering thoughts.
We should always put the cooperation of re-
collections at the service of ideas of value.  In
this matter scientific studies enjoy an advan-
tage  in  the  possession of  the laboratory
where the required manual effort  compels
leisurely reflection.  In the laboratory thought
is conjoined to action in the process of experi-
mentation, and so the attention  is held steady,
just as ceremonies, hymns and  religious rites
sustain the fervor of mystical souls.
  In every study undertaken we should seek
out the means of cooperative  mental effort.
The cooperation of recollections in the study
of an illness includes observation at the bed-
side of patients,  notation of symptoms, con-
trol and discussion of them.
  In the abstract subject of law cooperation
implies pursuit into the realm of practicality,
of the consequences of a statute, which deeply
affects those who suffer from  its inadequacy
or its rigor.  No one can thoroughly under-
stand a law or administrative  regulation un-
til the results of its action on the lives of the
[270] 
MEMORY
persons subject to it are ascertained.  It is
precisely because  the effects of a law are too
remote to be perceived by law-givers and law-
makers that centralization of authority pro-
duces so many unhappy consequences and
laws proceeding from the center of govern-
ment so often are found impossible to enforce.
A lawyer who  hears the experiences  of his
clients acquires a full knowledge of law, some-
thing he by no means possest when he obtained
his degree.
  Then  again,  our knowledge of history is
more  firmly grounded when it is closely knit
with the  knowledge of geography, which  in
part explains the course  of events.  By way
of illustration,  I may point out that the his-
tory of England  and her hesitation to take
part in the great war of 1914 is explained
partly by England's island situation.
  Even in literature cooperative mental effort
should be practised.  In my observation  of
scholars  I have found that they remember
better the  development  of sensuality  in
the Roman Emperor  Nero, or avarice  in
Moliere's Harpagon, when their attention is
called to the study of some other vice such as
alcoholism;  and they see how  it gradually
[271] 
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destroys all the moral resistance provided in
the sense of personal dignity, love of family,
etc.  Inversely, when they study psychology,
classic  examples afford them a  model  on
which to base analyses  of motives and feel-
ings.  If our cultural methods were not so su-
perficial it would be possible for scholars to
have an implicit knowledge  of psychology,
logic and morals at the very outset of their
course in philosophy.
  Once  more, therefore, as we come to the
conclusion  of our examination of the useful-
ness- of recollections in cooperative mental
effort, we realize the inefficiency of hurried
study, that moves by jumps and only  skims
the surface of things. No harvest ripens with-
out the  aid of time.  All the information we
have acquired about efficient production con-
vinces us over and over again that we must do
only one thing at a time, do it with all our
might and without hurry, so that we store our
minds with the rich treasure of sustaining re-
collections.

            NECESSITY OF ORDER

  Another  rule for making our recollections
fast is the  rule of. order.  The systematizing
[272] 
MEMORY
of our knowledge is of higher importance than
the  mere acquisition of it, for confused and
disordered knowledge overburdens the mind
and dooms our efforts to barrenness, which
is discouraging.  If we have the habit of order
in our daily life we avoid loss of time and loss
of nervous energy through hurry. It always
happens when we are in a hurry that we are
unable to find the things we have neglected to
put in their proper place.  The case is more
serious when, in search of some acquisition
of memory,  we have to struggle to find the
needed recollection  we have failed to put in
its category.
  In all books on psychology we encounter
sections devoted to the necessity of order.
But we never come across instructions on
what constitutes  a  memory in which things
are in their proper place.
  A memory is not like a great department
store, such as the Bon Marche, where anything
may be procured.  In  the Bon Marche each
department  is directed by a competent man-
ager.  Now  in the matter of our memory we
are the sole  and individual manager and our
capacities are limited.  If we wish to make a
great bazaar of our memory, which shall con-
                   [273] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
tain everything, we shall discover that we
overlook many things and that the quality of
our stock  of recollections leaves much to be
desired.   In my student days they tried to
make a universal bazaar out of my memory.
To-day when I have need of a particular re-
collection  in chemistry,  the natural sciences,
history, or geography, it seems  to me often
that my memory might be compared to those
nuts that look  so  good  on the  outside, but
which when broken are found to  contain only
dust and decay.  It is the height  of absurdity
to aim at  making a universal bazaar of one's
memory.
  But, it  will be asked, in what  does  a  well-
organized, well-ordered  memory consist?
There is  only  one possible answer  to  this
question.   A  well-organized,   well-ordered
memory is the  memory  of a modest learner
who realizes that  to attempt omniscience is
to prefer  pseudo-intelligence for culture that
is profound and real.  He  does  not seek the
vainglory of universal erudition, nor fatuous
satisfaction in  dazzling dull minds.  He is
ambitious only to give to certain  directive hy-
potheses  or ideas, which seem  essential to
him, an organic power.  This organic power
                   [274] 
MEMORY
is the mysterious force such as resides in the
acorn through which it becomes an oak when
it has been planted in the ground and has had
sufficient time to assimilate the elements of
earth, water, sun and air  which are  of the
same nature as the acorn itself.
  An ideal  condition would be to have the
memory organized as are  the  flora,  among
which secondary specimens are classified ac-
cording to the dominating specimens on which
they are dependent. This fundamental system
of order enables the mind to move at ease amid
the otherwise impenetrable mass of the hun-
dreds of thousands of flowering plants.  Un-
fortunately, all natural  classification  is im-
possible outside the  sciences.  The best we
can do in the field of study is to approach as
nearly  as possible to natural  classifications
and to  organize the memory under the hier-
archy of essential ideas.
              ESSENTIAL IDEAS
  What is an essential idea?   In answering
this question we touch the very  foundations
of  education.  In  colleges this  question  is
merely set  up for general consumption and
reaches no one in particular. A professor in
                   [275] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
charge of a class of a large number of stu-
dents, to whom he gives instruction  several
hours in each week during a course  of nine
months, is not capable of ascertaining their
deeper tendencies and consequently can not
know what are the  essential ideas, the vital
ideas of each member of his class.
  On the  other hand, the studious  person,
during his hours of silent meditation is able
to question himself and take cognizance of
his desires and tendencies.  We keep in mind,
to say it briefly, only the things that interest
us.  Just  as great mountain chains give its
configuration to the land in which they lie, its
streams of water, its lines of communication,
and, to a degree, its history, so also our fun-
damental  tendencies  fix the  structure  and
physiognomy of our memory. Every memory
is individual, has the color of our feelings and
is conditioned  by  our constitution and our
inclinations.  Therefore let us  have the per-
severance to realize ourselves in our memory
by patiently storing  our energies in  it as
steadily as they rise from the depths of our
being.  Then we shall see our instincts  de-
velop into faculties, just as a wood fire, which
at first is merely smoke, gradually becomes
                   [276] 
MEMORY
a  mass  of flame through  the cooperative
blaze of multiple tiny flames and so gives out
heat.
  If my memory of sight is  rich I shall have
brilliant  recollections  of color,  and,  as  a
painter, would no doubt be  able to produce
autumn landscapes of  delicate  shadings.  If
my muscular memory is strong I should re-
veal abundant variety of line and action.  A
musician of great aural memory should  be
able to remember whole symphonies of  Ber-
lioz or of Beethoven.  A sensuous poet, like
Alfred de  Musset, will have  a brain dom-
inated by the imagery of love.  A lover  of
nature will have a mind stored with plenteous
variety of beautiful landscapes.  A Corneille,
heroic and sincere, will nourish his mind  on
the lives of the heroes of antiquity, while La
Fontaine, who is  so fond of animals, knows
and remembers all their traits and habits.
A person  of  religious spirit,  like  Bossuet,
will have  an  imagination overflowing with
Biblical images.
  The  organic structure of the memory  is
not modelled  solely by predispositions and
the deeper tendencies,  but also by the char-
acteristics  of the  will.  By persons of impul-
[277] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
sive will such a hodgepodge of memories is
hastily  absorbed without due scrutiny that
their  mind becomes laden with  errors  and
prejudices.  Persons of careless mind gather
only  half-impressions  and  fragments  of
knowledge that are of no  utility.  On the
other hand, it is to be  noted that a  calm
and patient  will can organize  will-power
so thoroughly on the basis of certain strong
and directive ideas that it is in constant
touch with the  permanent  sources of feel-
ing.  Every person of intelligence will pro-
ceed  not only along  the line of  least re-
sistance, but also along that line  on which
he is  borne by the current of his  profounder
tendencies. . . .
      CONCENTRATION THE REAL POWER

  It is  necessary therefore  that we take ac-
count of our personality, which of necessity
lends its color to our recollections;  and by
this I mean  to say that we should love the
work we are  doing, for it  is a  misapplica-
tion  of our energy to  undertake any re-
sponsibility which goes  against  the grain.
  Nevertheless we find  an  objection forth-
coming.  This objection is  that an ordered
[278] 
MEMORY
memory, such as we have defined, is a mem-
ory incomplete and limited.  This objection
presupposes  that  a  universal  memory is
within human power.  Let us  give  up the
idea that we  can know everything.  On this
point I may recall the remark of the Geneva
professor of  law who said to  d'Alembert,
the famous French philosopher and mathe-
matician,  when they  were  discussing Vol-
taire, that law was the only subject on which
he  found  Voltaire insufficiently informed.
"And I," replied  d'Alembert,  "found Vol-
taire  ill-informed only about geometry."
  Because of the marvellous growth of hu-
man knowledge, universality of mind is im-
possible.  We must not look to Pasteur for
an opinion on the  symphonies of Beethoven
or  on  the  pictures   of   Saint  Genevieve
painted by Puvis de  Chavannes.  Similarly
we  do  not  expect an expert opinion  on
higher mathematics from  Claude Bernard.
Only  journalists are expected to know every-
thing, and they,  fortunately, have the en-
cyclopedia to call  upon for assistance.
  Moreover,  persons  who really toil man-
fully  with their brains can be happy even
if they are only  demi-savants  or one-tenth
                   [2791 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
part  savants,  for  once  they  reach  the
depths of  one branch  of  knowledge, even
tho they have not done more  than attain
to an outlook on reality, it gives them the
contact  of  reality  and  they  acquire  an
especial divining power about the  eternal
order of  things.  Thus they are  able to
understand the  discoveries of other inves-
tigators even when they are  only half ex-
plained,  and  nothing in the  universe re-
mains wholly foreign to them.   A  savant
worthy of  the name  can not  be limited by
the  confined  mentality of  the  specialist.
"Specialist"  is the  rather damaging de-
scription  of  a  learned person  of  limited
range, who is a stranger  even to the pro-
founder ideas  of  his own special  science,
and who is therefore incapable of intuitive
sympathy  for the  whole  run  of  human
knowledge.
  Let us never be worried that we must limit
our scope of knowledge, for universality is
a synonym of dispersion,  and therefore  of
mediocrity.   Even if  there are many things
we  do not  know, we can  not be  charged
therefore  with being half-learned, for half-
learning is a term used to  ridicule only pre-
[280] 
MEMORY
sumptuous ignorance.  Dispersion and medi-
ocrity imply feebleness of mind.
  Strength  of mind does not mean that we
fling the strictly proportioned energy of the
brain wildly to the four winds, but that, on
the contrary,  we  conserve  and concentrate
this energy.  A happy life has been defined
as the  ideal  of youth  realized in mature
years.  Those persons may indeed be said
to be happy  who at  about their twenty-
seventh year  have discovered that idea  of
great  fertility which thirty years of toil
will transform into a work  of  lasting in-
fluence.  I use the word "work" intensively,
in speaking of a writer or a savant, because
the  productions of a mind  that  thinks and
acts  are merely  successive approximations
to a unique truth, the richness and fertility
of which become manifest only little by little
and as  the result of toil and meditation.
  A well-ordered memory is very different
from  a memory running at haphazard.   A
well-ordered memory is the creation of the
will,  as carefully designed  and constructed
as a garden organized  by the genius of Le
Notre, where every element is so disposed
[281] 
_______WILL-POWER AND WORK_______

as to make  the beauty of  nature  apparent
and understood.
           VALUE OF FORGETTING
  It is a fortunate thing for us that an im-
mense number of observed matters lie for-
ever lost in an oblivion of the mind, because
if we remembered  everything  we  should
have  an  over-burdened mind made up of a
mass of  indistinguishable  details.  Thus  it
is that when we learn a certain passage by
heart, this passage remains a solid block  in
our  mind; and it is difficult to isolate one
thought  or  one  phrase  that goes to  form
the whole.
  A  memory that  grasps and  holds too
many things really militates against a. high
development of talent, because it encumbers
the mind with so much lumber.  In  order
to avoid this mistake, we must cultivate our
energies to  pick and choose with nice  selec-
tive power among the  facts and thoughts  to
be admitted into our mind.  This is  not  to
say  that we should  hope  to find ourselves
possest  of  a defective  memory,  of  which
Montaigne  complains  when he  says that,
"it  takes me three  hours to  learn  three
[282] 
MEMORY
lines of verse.''  But the advantage of having
a memory that  does not retain objects too
easily  is that the memory of a man of su-
perior mind is the creation of his wilL  All
the  elements of  his mind should  cooperate
toward the same end and produce a full and
joint result.  Whatever does not help to this
end, impedes it,  and  therefore should be
eliminated.
  It is our  duty therefore  to  build  up a
memory that is  all our own,  organized like
a well-disciplined army,  which  is not  only
absolutely  subject to  out  will but which
is able even to  anticipate  our. orders, be-
cause it divines and  foresees them through
entire  sympathy with  our  deepest  desires.
To  obtain such-  a memory we must, as has
been said, resolve from the very beginning
to make a selective choice  of things to be
remembered, and  to reject utterly all facts
and thoughts of indifferent or inconsequen-
tial character.  The very power I possess to
forget  things confers upon me the ability to
create  my memory.   Forgetfulness, which
is the  terror of the erudite, who, as Male-
branche says, '"transform their heads  into
a library of  dictionaries," is  the  power
[ 283 ] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
which  liberates  us from the  servitude  of
chance.   But it  is  to  be  remarked that
there is a false  and capricious kind of for-
getfulness, which  does us harm, because it
interferes with memory at haphazard.  The
forgetfulness to be desired  is that which is
subject to our will, and of good  influence
because it is the instrument of our intellec-
tual liberty.  It is by the adroit management
of this kind of forgetfulness  that we  can
bring our personality into  full flower, just
as with a mallet  and chisel a sculptor re-
leases from a crude mass of stone the  figure
which radiates life and* thought.

    HOW TO BE MASTER OF ONE'S MEMORY
  How shall we  make intelligent use of this
power of forgetfulness  in  order to  create
that great  work  of  art which  is a well-
organized memory?   If  this ability to for-
get is  undisciplined  and left to its own de-
vices it can do naught but  harm to us, but
if it is subject to obedience it frees our mind
from all disorder and incoherence.
  The intensity  of  an impression and  its
repetition  are the indispensable conditions
to  impress a recollection  in  the  memory.
[284] 
MEMORY
Now we are the masters of these two con-
ditions.  We can regulate and choose among
the impressions that seek admission to our
memory and  either accord  or  refuse  such
admission.
  In fact, there are two attitudes* of the
attention.  One is  the  attitude of  distrust
—that is, attention is on its guard.  When
I read a book about which I am in utter
ignorance, my attention progresses  through
the contents of this book in a manner sim-
ilar to  that with which my  feet move as  I
cross  a perilous, bridge,  of snow  on the
crevasse of  a glacier.   To  put it  plainly,
my feet do  not take all  my  weight upon
them.   I do  not walk ahead freely  and' de-
liberately.  In the like manner when I read
such a book  as  I  have mentioned,  I give
to it only part  of my mental energy.  The
result  is  that the  impression left  by this
book in my memory is so slight that with-
in a few hours it has faded out.  At times
also it happens  that when I read the news-
paper,  I completely forget  what  I have
read within a few minutes after reading it.
The  greater  number of  empty  conversa-
tions, of fruitless observation  and reading,
                   [285] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

vanish from the memory as  fog disappears
before the sun.  Even when some ingenious
remark sharply captures my attention I am
bound to forget it also, unless I intention-
ally call it back to mind.
  Thus I acquired the precious faculty of
voluntary forgetfulness which I suggest that
people cultivate as early in life as possible.
Will-power and habit are the two  sole re-
quisites for its acquirement.  Through this
faculty we  are able  to  decline to remember
anything and everything at first observation
and in consequence our memory is not bur-
dened with random recollections.  All I hear,
all I see, all I read, slips into oblivion if I do
not retain- it by an emphatic act of attention,
and therefore  of attention governed by will-
power. If I do not exercise this willed atten-
tion I can read without remembering anything
of what I have read.  Nevertheless one disad-
vantage of this practise is that we risk re-
reading a book of which we have no recollec-
tion.  On occasion I have bought for the sec-
ond time a book  whose title interested me,
but which I found I had read.  In order to
avoid this minor mishap it  is  sufficient to
tear off the cover  of the book and file  it be-
[286] 
MEMORY
fore throwing the book into the waste basket.
Often I re-read a novel or a play without hav-
ing any remembrance of my first impressions
of the book.
  Once we have acquired the habit of volun-
tary forgetfulness, in order to keep some-
thing in  mind we must decisively  will to re-
tain it and give redoubled attention to the
subject.   All we do not retain by this fixt
effort of the attention passes out of the mind.
  We save a great deal of nervous force in the
process  because we retain only that which
truly interests  us, namely, only the observa-
tions  and experiences of value aimed at the
seven  or eight organized  objectives  in our
brain.
  But it will be said that this method allows of
great  gaps of  knowledge  and of  ignorance
about very many things.  This is true, yet it
must be noted that, however we  strive, we
shall never be  anything but partly informed
on  many subjects  and  wholly  ignorant  of
many  others.   We are subject to the limita-
tions of time and of our nervous energy. The
question to be decided is  what course we pur-
pose to  follow  in life.  We must choose be-
tween dazzling the uninformed  by our  abil-
[287] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
ity to write and talk about everything, with-
out knowing anything; or, we must decide to
attain  to real achievement.  The  greatest
achievement of all is to make the best of our-
selves, to be a physician,  a lawyer, a pro-
fessor, a business man, a farmer, or what not,
who is at the same time a person of lively and
alert mind and' possessing a memory richly
stored with all the treasures the best minds
have acquired in our line of effort.  Thus we
shall be  among those whose opinion is held
valuable.  But we shall not take rank of this
character unlessj we are intelligent enough to
understand  that  our strength  is subject  to
strict limitations, and that if we waste it, we
shall have only a mediocre knowledge about
everything,  a  kind  of encyclopedic memory
for superficial conversation. Only those who
know how to concentrate succeed in making
the most of themselves and in attaining  to
real achievement.
  It behooves us, therefore, to employ volun-
tary forgetfulness  with  resoluteness  and
persistence so that  we have a memory con-
centrated on our work,  on our impressions,
and on our deeper tendencies.  By coordi-
nated effort during the fifteen years that fol-
                  [288] 
MEMORY
low  one's  eighteenth  year,  one is  able to
gather rich and  savorous fruit for the au-
tumn of life.  The reward of such effort is
that we are able to discuss subjects weightily,
while men  of encyclopedic mind may be
compared to those beautiful double-blossom
flowers which yield no fruit.  Such are bril-
liant talkers, brilliant  journalists, brilliant
orators, who dazzle  for an instant and then
disappear in the night without having added
anything to the common store of thought, of
feeling, of human discovery.
  We shall acquire such a memory as we will
and deserve to possess. At birth we are pos-
sest only of possibilities; and  most people
die without having realized their possibilities.
They have the appearance of being real per-
sons, but if we examine them closely we find
that they are merely a motley bundle of sen-
sations,  perceptions,  feelings  and  contra-
dictory tendencies.  A photographic proof
of their character would  be  neither positive
nor negative, but indistinct,  vague and neb-
ulous.  They are no  more  responsible for
the harm they do than for the good they do,
for in each  case they have been subjected to
influences without any choice on their part.
[289] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
A photographic proof of their memory would
defy examination because of its disorder and
complexity, for their ideas choke one another
like rank undergrowth in a jungle.  If some
appearance of order seems to be there, it is
not due to their will-power but to some emo-
tional cause,  such  as sensuality, avarice or
senile hunger for power which has put some
little order amid chaos.
  A man who has  courage and pride should
never yield to the  haphazard, to the chaotic,
or to irresolution,  which is to say to impo-
tence.  No more should he accept the unifica-
tion of effort proceeding from  some  over-
whelming passion,  which is destructive of lib-
erty.   He should ponder  long and discover
the greater and deeper currents of his  en-
ergy.  These currents form permanent ten-
dencies which are the  only ones that can
powerfully influence will-power  and the at-
tention.  We  must sincerely record what we
like to do, what we study with pleasure and
what we are  interested in keenly.  Little by
little we shall discover  our tastes with cer-
tainty, and we shall know the work of which
we are capable, for there is no surer means of
                   [290] 
MEMORY
failing in life than by going counter to one's
tendencies.
  It should be the dominant concern of par-
ents and teachers to note, as the years go by,
what are the tastes  and preferences  of the
child and the nature of his feelings, for great
thoughts come from the heart.
  How many there are who have passed a
dismal life  because they were too trifling and
careless  in making their  choice  of occupa-
tion.  Their occupation does not harmonize
either with their deeper desires or their apti-
tudes, and  in consequence their work never
satisfies  them. On the other hand, when we
are engaged in  work that we like, we are
carried along by it as a ship is  sped  along
the waves by a favoring wind.  Therefore we
must hearken to the inner call of our inclina-
tions, nor follow the career of an explorer, if
as a child we have been quiet and serene, no
more than we should devote ourselves to office
work if we  are of an adventurous and hardy
nature.  If  we have poor eyesight and an im-
patient  temperament we  are not fitted to
paint miniatures.
  From,  the moment we have  learned to
realize why we were born we must be modest
[291] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
and docile with the realities of life.  One es-
sential reality is, that the memory is not pos-
sest  of unlimited capacity,  that we  must
not waste our energy, and that the only way
we can avoid wasting it, is to organize it. We
must allow it to have  air and light and we
must build our will-power into a structure of
method, order and harmony.  All elements of
that structure must be  clear, intelligible, and
in harmony with our permanent  inclinations.
Intelligence  is penetrative  only  through the
force of sympathy and the stimulus of a real
liking for the work in which we are engaged.
Just as a woman sounds to the depths the soul
of the man she loves, and follows his slightest
emotions of joy or disquiet, so 'a historian
like Michelet finds in the dull texts of chron-
icles all the sufferings and ambitions of our
forefathers, whom he brings back to life in
his history.  This is because history is an in-
tensified projection of our soul.   It is only by
going back to our feelings  of childhood that
we can understand ancient civilization.
  As Paul Desjardins has written: '' The em-
barkation of Columbus at Palos for a shore
that perhaps did not exist, his anguish dur-
ing the voyage, and the existence or the non-
                   [292 
MEMORY
existence of a whole world dependent on his
determination—such is the history of our
eighteenth year  . .  .  We have the spirit of
the Crusades in our heart; enthusiasm, the
distaste for all that is demeaning, and disgust
for all that  is too easy in life.  Many, says
the chronicler, Raoul Glaber, wished in their
hearts to die before returning to the scene of
their temporal possessions."
  A chemist has presentiments of the reac-
tion of two chemicals upon each other.  A
physician, through a kind of divination, hears
the history of a life in the revelations of the
heart-beats of a patient. A lawyer, in a quar-
ter of an hour, has a better understanding
than you have of the problem  on which you
are thinking day and night.  This proves how
true it is that, liking for what we study gives
a  competent mind  clear  vision,  so that all
becomes plain to it.
  Thus we have seen that there are memories
and memories.  In badly  ordered memories
recollections crowd and range  themselves in
any order  they can find.  In well-ordered
memories only such  recollections are ad-
mitted which are subject to control and they
are  installed in due formation in an organic
[293] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
structure. This creation of a memory in ac-
cordance with our own design is the  most
precious manifestation of  human  liberty.
Only on such a memory can  we found an in-
tellectual life which shall bear fruit in high
achievement.
[2H] 
Ill
    INSTRUCTION THROUGH READING

          '' Happy  are  they who hearken
          to the message of the dead."—
                        Leonardo da Vinoi.
            DANGERS OF READING
  Disorderly, haphazard, uncertain and  in-
exact reading reduces to the very minimum
the power of the will and the freedom of
choice in the development of memory.  There
is an  almost morbid  effect in the waste of in-
tellectual energy and the exhausting dispersal
of mental force in such reading.  In the pas-
sion for reading, of the so-called "intellec-
tuals" we discover  the  consequences of an
education not based on  sound principles of
the human constitution.
  We shall never cease to repeat that in
order to have  intelligent use of our mental
energy it is necessary that we spend several
hours each day in some light and interesting
manual effort.  For lack of such relaxation
[295] 
_______WILL-POWER AND WORK________

most people engaged in intellectual labors,
altho  thoroughly  worked out,  spend  too
many hours each day in devouring books.
  As their energy is limited they are not able
to give more than a superficial and ineffective
attention to such reading. Little by little they
lose the  taste for vigorous effort,  then  the
habit, and finally even the capacity.  It is so
easy to turn page after page of a book in idle
reading.   It is as if we were comfortably
seated before some moving-picture represen-
tation, and it so satisfying to our indolent in-
clinations to be able  to surrender all control
and direction of our thoughts.
  Reading is  the most dangerous form of
idleness,  because an  idle person  who does
nothing at all, may suffer remorse for his
idleness and resolve to rid himself of it. But
if he is an idle reader he believes that he is
working and then his idleness is beyond cure.
The passion for reading may degenerate into
a mania  comparable  to  gluttony.  Nervous
people read as if they were biting their nails.
Take note of them in their own homes, of their
air of distraction, and at the  same time of
their suggested irritation now and then at the
presence  of their family as they look up from
                  [296] 
    INSTRUCTION THROUGH READING

their book. They shield themselves against all
reproaches by declaring that there must be no
interruption of their work and they really de-
lude themselves on this point, so ingenious is
the mind at self-deception.
  Such reading is an absolute waste of time
and it would be very easy to prove to one-
self, provided one  were sincere, that after a
few weeks there is absolutely no resultant im-
pression of such  reading.  Rapid reading
causes the mind to scatter and weakens the
intelligence. It dulls our personality through
the excess of disorder and unassimilable stim-
ulation.  It can never in  any sense be con-
sidered as real work.
  When   Cervantes  wants to  drive Don
Quixote crazy he makes him indulge in ex-
cessive reading.  Happily everybody does not
pass  entire nights in  reading as did the
Chevalier de  la Mancha,  but  many young
people of bright promise have suffered their
minds to become heavy and dull through the
abuse of reading.
  The waste of mental energy involved in a
day's reading is  staggering  to consider.
Many persons read from  one  hundred  and
twenty to one hundred and thirty words a
[297] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
minute, which is thirty thousand  words in
four hours and two hundred thousand words
in a week. Apart from the excessive strain
on the eyes, we must remember that all this
fatigue is a total loss.
  In the constant succession of impressions
encountered  in  rapid  reading  our  atten-
tion is weakened and disorganized.  A cer-
tain amount of nervous energy is  consumed
in the simple comprehension of words and of
propositions, with the result that in rapid
reading fatigue much greater than we imagine
piles up in our brain.  This fatigue is wholly
without compensation because we do not give
ourselves time either  to realize the ideas
suggested by the author or to confront them
with our own experience. Rapidi reading un-
fits one for work and gives one a disgust for
it.  An idea presents  itself, an emotion is
aroused, but no regular development is  pos-
sible because each new impression puts to
rout the impression that preceded it.
  Let us consider  our  feelings after having
read swiftly through a newspaper or through
a mediocre novel abounding in stirring action.
We feel tired, our eyes are tired, our lungs
are clogged for lack of full breathing, and our
[298] 
INSTRUCTION THROUGH READING
general physical condition is one  of weari-
ness.  As for our brain it is empty, tired and
dissatisfied.  In a word our general condi-
tion is one of sluggish languor. What is more,
it requires effort on our part to recall any-
thing at all of what we have been reading, and
on  the morrow we shall not be able to re-
member a single thing.  So our time has gone
for nothing.  Incidentally let us try to sum-
marize what we can remember of the things
we  have read during the past week, the past
month, the past year.  We shall be amazed at
our slight stock of recollections.  What is the
use of such reading?
  But it is asserted that "memory exacts the
superfluous in order to retain the necessary/'
This is a solemn aphorism which, on reflection,
will be found void of sense.  In order to re-
tain what  is necessary, the memory exacts
that this  necessary be  formulated and re-
peated.  Knowledge that is just caught in
skimming  disappears, leaving no more trace
than does the countryside we see through the
car window of  a fast express.  Thus it be-
comes evident that there is no use in sub-
jecting the eyes and our supply of nervous
                  [299] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
force to wasteful reading.  Rather we should
economize our energy.
  Medical science shows us that fasting from
time to time is good for the health; and for
the health of the spirit it is indispensable
that from time to time we should fast from
reading.  When one considers the mind of a
Bachelor  of  Arts and  discovers how little
knowledge there remains after seven years of
studies and lectures it is enough to make one
weep over the fallacies of  our educational
methods.  The student who wishes to escape
from their deadly  routine  should  resolve
firmly not to attempt the difficult and absurd
aim of the impossible in trying to know every-
thing.  Let him keep in mind the law of for-
getfulness, which is the foundation of his in-
tellectual  liberty; and let  him never indulge
in the presumptuous belief that the laws of
memory may be violated with impunity.
  All reading should be done in a spirit of
loyal submission to these inescapable laws.
        THE  FOUR KINDS OF  READING
  Respect for these laws having been stipu-
lated as a preliminary condition about read-
ing, we may next turn to the divers kinds of
[300] 
    INSTRUCTION THROUGH READING

reading, for reading with different objectives
demands different attitudes of the attention.
  The first and most important! kind of read-
ing is reading for instruction in a profession.
Through this reading the student  prepares
the soil of his mind and enriches it with the
seed of knowledge of his profession, whether
he is to be a philosopher,  a historian, a lin-
guist, or what not.
  Secondly, we have complementary reading,
which is designed to complete studies in cer-
tain special branches, or to compare results
attained with the records of  those superior
minds who have also  devoted themselves to
the facts we are studying.
   Thirdly, there  is reading for edification,
that  is reading designed to  strengthen the
rather too soft clay of our good intentions and
 our will-power by the example of the firmness
 and stability of the minds of the greatest men.
   Fourthly and finally, we have reading for
 mere diversion.
          READING FOR A PROFESSION
   Our reading for this  purpose  should be
 regulated by one  general rule.  We  should
 remain masters of our nervous vigor and of
[301] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
the limited power of our attention, in order
that our mental forces are always fresh in
attacking any position to be  gained.  Any
reading of which we can not show  evident
profit  is  hurtful,  because  it wastes  our
strength, increases  the number of hours  we
spend  in  sedentary occupation with faulty
attitudes  for breathing,  and adds  to the
fatigue of the eyes.
  Just as in war the concentration of forces
is of supreme importance, so in that intellec-
tual war of conquest, which  is reading,  we
must have our forces concentrated. In every
province of knowledge there are some books
of supreme value.   These books constitute
strategic positions which we must invest with
courage and with patient tenacity.  Thus for
instance, a student in philosophy will find ex-
cellent philosophic  training in some of the
more important dialogs of Plato  and in the
ethics  of Nicomachus, the essential sections
of the  "Metaphysics of  Aristotle,"  by Ra-
vaison, the "Meditations" of Descartes, the
last  two books of Spinoza's "Ethics," the
"Quest  of Truth,"  by  Malebranche, the
"New  Essays" of Leibnitz; and  among the
moderns the "Philosophy of Hamilton, the
                   [302] 
    INSTRUCTION THROUGH READING

"Logic"  of John  Stuart  Mill,  and  the
"Special Analysis of Psychology," of Her-
bert Spencer.
  Now,  as  it is  of great importance not to
scatter our energy, it will be found prudent
at first to attach oneself to one author and
follow him obediently in order to have a line
of solidified ideas.   Thus when I began to
study philosophy I took up first the "Phil-
osophy of Hamilton," by John Stuart Mill,
and then Mill's  "Logic."  Little by little I
gained a thorough understanding of these two
works with the  result that, tho at first I
followed the footsteps of my master, Mill, and
was nourished solely by his doctrine, grad-
ually  I came to see the limits of his thought
and the weakness of his metaphysics.  But it
is only  because  Mill enriched my mind and
served so long as its guide that I was able to
travel beyond his point of view.  The '' Med-
itations" of Descartes and the works of Male-
branche and Leibnitz  were  later abounding
sources of intellectual wealth for me, but this
happened simply because I  had obtained so
thorough a groundwork in the philosophy of
John  Stuart Mill.
  One can become a  teacher only after one
has toiled as a docile pupil, and such is the
[303] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
weakness  of human thought  that nothing
should hurry us to abandon the tutelage of a
great mind.  If you read as you should read
a great work, that is in understanding it, and
to understand it means to compare the ideas
of this work with your own experience,  you
will gradually come into possession of your
own mind and think your own thoughts.  We
are all like the child that clings to its mother
during the months when it is making its first
steps. As the child grows steadier on its feet
the mother withdraws a little from it and lets
it walk alone, but is always ready to catch the
child lest it fall. Our pride rather resents the
idea  that the mind should need  maternal
tutelage.  Yet it  is   always  found   that
persons of vain pretension, who wish to travel
alone too soon, suffer from a twisted kind of
mind, just as children  who attempt to walk
before their  legs are strong enough show the
consequence in crooked  legs.
  But we must not deceive ourselves about
the services  to be rendered us through read-
ing.  A book creates nothing in us. If I do
not know what a glacier is, or what the sea is,
no description of either one or the other can
supply the lack of direct experience of such
[304] 
    INSTRUCTION THROUGH READING

objects.  Similarly a lazy person can not un-
derstand the profound happiness involved in
creative effort.  He simply does not believe
in it.  A selfish person does not believe that
there  is any compensation in giving up cer-
tain pleasures and inclinations for the sake
of those who are dear to  us.  Moreover—and
this is a severe condemnation of  our ency-
clopedic  method of education—every book
and every educational course which aims to
instruct one without direct experience of that
of which it treats, merely instructs in parrot
fashion.
        BOOKS MERELY INSTRUMENTS
  Books are comparable to the microscope
or the telescope.  Thus an author is able to
show  us the relations, consequences, and an-
tecedents of facts which  might escape minds
that are less rather than more vigorous, pene-
trating, logical, or prepared. But  the source
of  knowledge lies in  external and internal
realties—that is to say, in life, in experience,
in thought.   It  is  necessary  to understand
this point well.  In the "Song of King Dago-
bert," Peguy says:  "Scholars, that which
annoys you is the fact that there can be reali-
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ties.''  Let us not be such scholars, and let us
be convinced that realities exist.
  This fundamental statement enables us to
conceive what reading should be and what it
should not be. To read passively is to waste
one's time.  To read  is to understand, is to
grasp with energy the author's thought, in a
word it is to think.
  Now every act of thought consists of an
affirmation or a denial that a certain thing ex-
ists, -or that  it resembles another thing, or
that it has certain relations in space and in
time with some other thing, which relations
are necessary, or fortuitous.  So reading  is
always affirming or denying an  existence, a
resemblance,  a relationship in time and in
space. The words and propositions of a book
should never  halt the thought  of the reader.
We must break the bone in order to reach the
marrow, or in other words, we  must get to
the root of things.  Reading should not  be a
servile acceptance  of  affirmations or denials
by the author, but should be a comparison of
them with reality,  with experience, and  with
reason, which is the condensation of the expe-
riences of the human race.  We should not
endeavor to learn  so  much what the author
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has thought, but whether what he has thought
is true.  Again we must scrutinize, even more
carefully than his affirmations or denials, the
motives which impel him to make them.
  By way of example: if an author affirms
out of sheer paradox that Homer or Shake-
speare has never existed, we must examine
into his reasons for making such a statement
and not into the statement itself.  If it is as-
serted that a whale has more points of  re-
semblance to a man than a shark has, a pro-
found examination of these comparisons will
settle the question.
  When the invasions of the Asianbarbarians
are explained to me as the result of the grad-
ual drying up of the soil of Central Asia, and
when an engineer who has worked in Meso-
potamia informs me that the irrigation canals
of ancient Babylon are five yards higher than
the highest water of the River Euphrates, the
bond of causality between the two facts seems
credible to me. . .  .
  All knowledge that has not passed the true
test and which we take on credit is pseudo-
knowledge.  It is a game with memory,  but
only a game and it does not become part of
the knowledge of the  soul.   Through such
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knowledge one becomes merely a bookish per-
son ; and not only because one does not com-
pare the printed fact with the actual fact, but
because in the end one is unable to see reali-
ties except through the deformation and blur
of print.  Thus  our mind soon becomes over-
laden and paralyzed with the accumulation of
opinions  and- facts in  which we can  not  dis-
tinguish the true from the false.
  In many  of our text-books the teaching of
Moral Philosophy is based on the Categorical
Imperative. According to Kant the moral law
does not proceed either from experience or
from the Divine Will.  It is  suspended be-
tween  Heaven  and Earth.   In geology we
know that  certain phenomena of  movement
are of  common  occurrence.  For instance, a
stratum of very ancient period becomes cov-
ered with a stratum of  much more recent date.
A somewhat similar phenomenon  took place
in the brain of Kant, where the critical spirit
he had borrowed from Descartes and Hume
came under the influence of old religious
sentimentality,  and thus these old religious
sentiments  envelop the "Critique of Pure
Reason.''
  His doctrine  arbitrarily considers the or-
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INSTRUCTION THROUGH READING
dered universe of Descartes and the Latins
an incoherence because we introduce reason
and morality into it without any justification
and as it were by a coup d'etat.  His doctrine
cuts the universe in half.  How much finer is
the doctrine  of the great  Greek and French
thinkers who consider the universe as tend-
ing wholly toward a reason clear  and still
more clear and which finds solid foundation
in reason and in  the essential order of the
realities.  The Categorical Imperative is a
pretentious  phrase void of truth, an opaque
screen- between the spirit of analysis and the
reality.
   In war a commander must know what forces
are hidden  behind the first line of sharp-
shooters, and, in case of necessity, he must by
a vigorous offensive force the enemy to reveal
his full strength.  In philosophy also the mind
must pierce  the curtain of words and pene-
trate to the realities by vigorous effort.  We
must never pass over a word, a proposition or
a page, the meaning  of which we grasp only
vaguely.  We must stedfastly  weigh the ex-
act meaning of words, especially when they
 are of prime importance, such as the word
"act"  and  "power" in  Aristotle  and the
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words "intuition" and "simple natures" in
Descartes.
             USELESS LEARNING
  In general, so-called erudition is merely a
substitute that we make use of to escape the
trouble of digging to the root of things. A
quotation is so handy when we wish to avoid
laborious effort.  If it appears before the au-
thor has  elucidated his  own thought it should
be held suspect.  Buffon  observed that the
Germans, whose  method  of  thought  rarely
attains to clear and distinct  thought  substi-
tuted erudition for the energy of intuition.
He wrote:  "I was struck by a defect, or
rather an excess,  to be noted  among the sav-
ants of Germany even to-day,  and that is that
they overload their works with a quantity of
useless learning.  The  result  is that the sub-
ject  they are treating is swamped in a mass
of strange matters on which they reason with
great complaisance and which they stretch
out with slight consideration for their readers.
Thus they seem  to forget what  they them-
selves have to tell you in their concern to tell
you  what others have said."  This statement
appears in Buffon's "Natural History" from
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which I quote again as follows: " I notice also
that in his library the German savant reads
one  after the other the ancients, moderns,
philosophers, theologians, jurisconsults, his-
torians, travelers, and poets, and reads them
with no other aim but to seize upon all the
words  and phrases that have a near  or re-
mote bearing on his subject. I see him copy
and have copied all their observations, which
are filed alphabetically, and when he has filled
several portfolios with  notes  of all  kinds,
taken  without examination and without se-
lection, he commences to work on a particular
subject and does not wish to lose a single item
of all the material he has collected."
  Thus it happens that most readers are con-
stantly distracted from the thought of the au-
thor by notes and remarks either biograph-
ical, historical, grammatical, or what not.
  Let  us beware of imitating  this erroneous
method.  Let us labor to follow the sequence
of  ideas according to their relative impor-
tance,  their bearing one on another, and the
value of the proofs that proceed from affirma-
tions or denials.  Also let us note how a great
writer presents with   limpid clarity  the
organic thoughts that give life to his work.
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     SELF-KNOWLEDGE THROUGH READING
  But merely* this is not enough.  In order to
commune intimately with a thinker I must
always keep my own experience face to face
with his.  This practise  is the only means
through which I can right myself at the be-
ginning of my intellectual life and through
which I can become  aware of the  profound
tendencies that animate my personality.  In
the calm of my study certain thoughts of the
author produce deep reverberations in my
soul.   My  sensibility yearns  toward them
enthusiastically and  receives them as long-
lost friends.  But other thoughts, on the con-
trary,  provoke a sullen hostility within me
which may disappear through meeting them
oftener. But my feeling  of hostility against
others  still,  is unchangeable.  Thus, for in-
stance, the postulates  of the "Critique  of
Pure Reason" of Kant seem to me so illog-
ical and so hypocritical that they have always
awakened in me the deepest repugnance.  It
is by listening to the harmonies stirred in my
mind  that  among the medley  of  confused
thoughts and ideas I am enabled  gradually
to select the idea that is fundamental.  Thus
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INSTRUCTION THROUGH READING
I can choose my intellectual companions and
the way I may travel with good hope of suc-
cess, because this fundamental thought will
develop in me all that has force and endur-
ance. How often have I not seen young tal-
ents go to waste because their possessors were
badly informed about themselves  and conse-
quently yielded to suggestions that only led
them away from the direction  of the perma-
nent currents of their  soul.  The  result was
that whatever they undertook, they under-
took with a feeling of distaste, with an in-
ward suffering, and so the enthusiasm of
creative work was impossible and their dis-
couragement inevitable.
  Disraeli says in "Endymion" that "every
man in the world succeeds in doing what he
likes to do, provided he really likes to do it."
This is tantamount to saying  that a young
man is sure of  achieving a successful career
if he proceeds toward his future with united
energies instead  of with  energies  that are
divided among themselves.  But as I have
written in my "Apprenticeship to the Art of
Writing" the name of those is legion who, be-
cause they have not learned to distinguish in
their own minds the difference between that
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which is stable and' fundamental as opposed
to that which is casual and accidental, are con-
sequently unable to thrust the roots of their
moral and intellectual fiber  down  to those
sources that are inexhaustible.
  It is necessary, moreover, that we read only
masterpieces, and*that we live "in the shadow
of the great masters."  Once such a choice of
reading is made, we must adhere to it with en-
tire loyalty and with all our forces, and we
must acquire the habit of sounding the mean-
ing of words to the depths, and never  pass
over a word that we are in doubt about,  or
ignorant of.  The study of the continuity of
ideas, of the logical progression of reasoning,
and of the value of evidence fortifies our men-
tal energy, sharpens our judgment, and cre-
ates within us the need of confronting ideas
with experiences, with reality.  In this man-
ner we acquire a lively sense of evidence.
  Reading that is done with vigor is heavy
work, and we must not indulge in  it except
in our moments of  fullest energy.  A few
hours given each week to such reading are
sufficient.  We must be fixt in our determina-
tion to read only works of the first class.  We
must  confine  ourselves to those  beautiful,
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powerful and opulent productions over which
generations  of learned men have labored to
secure the text in its pristine purity. Among
these are the works of Plato, Aristotle, Mon-
taigne, Pascal, and others.  Such works alone
deserve the devotion of all our feeling and our
intelligence.  They alone deserve the complete
effort of a personality which is resolved to
find itself in the struggle for  truth.
          COMPLEMENTARY READING
  But there is reading of another kind, which
does not by any means make so great demands
on  our energy,  and this is what  is termed
complementary reading.  Now we must never
begin with complementary reading. Thus, for
example, if I am resolved to  study the ques-
tion of character I will begin by a thorough
examination of the classification of Ribot, the
most eminent of modern psychologists. With
each one of his remarks I shall compare my-
self and the character of people whom I know
well.  Such verification will require a great
deal of time, but it is only when my concep-
tion of various characters has become definite,
 concrete, and vivid, that I will take up  as
complementary reading the studies of Ribera,
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Perez, Paulhan, Malapert, and others.   To
follow any other method of procedure would
result in disorder, incoherence, and entangle-
ment of the memory.
  Similarly, suppose I have to study "Rodo-
gune," a play by Corneille, for which he al-
ways had a warm regard.  At first I shall read
the tragedy slowly in order to acquaint myself
with what goes to make up the drama and the
plot.  Then I shall slowly read the more no-
table  scenes  because of their "solidity of
logic, warmth of passion, tendernesses of  love
and friendship."
  As I know that I can not remember every-
thing, and I ought not to try to remember
everything, I shall concentrate my mind on
three passages: 1. On the expression of the ex-
quisite friendship between the two brothers;
2. On the expression of the love of Antiochus
for Rodogune, and, of Rodogune  for Anti-
ochus, a love that is discreet and delicate; 3.
On a scene that is admirable because of the
vigor of its thought,  for instance, that of the
confession of Cleopatra in the second act, the
third  scene.   I shall  write down in my note-
book,  in order that I may be able to refer to
it frequently, "the force of the verse, the fa-
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cility of expression, and the solidity of the
logic" of these sixty imperishable lines, which
I shall study over and over again.
  In this manner I shall come to know these
three characteristic  scenes of the  genius of
Corneille, so that I can never forget them, for
that which should most interest a student of
literature is the expression of the feelings of
the human  soul by  a  great writer and his
wonderful flights of thought.
  As often as a young student acquires com-
plete knowledge of a text, he will be surprized
to discover of how little  service to him are
even the most famous of critics. They pursue
the secondary career of criticism because they
feel that they are incapable of creative work.
In  the manner of parasitical plants they live
 on the  strength of others, that is  to say, on
 the work of those who think for themselves.
 Some critics vaunt themselves  above the au-
 thor and strive to dazzle the audience on the
 occasion  of his appearance and shine  at his
 expense.  Other critics again find  in authors
 merely a pretext for polemical discourse.
   For  that matter, how many of  them have
 the time humbly and perseveringly to pene-
 trate the thonght of the master? How can we
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be just toward a writer unless we have made
a profound study of his  work?  The only
criticism that can have influence is that which
places itself in the position of the person who
has produced a creative  work,  and  shows
from his point of view the imperfections of
his effort, and above all,  suggests what he
ought to have done.  Any critic who is sub-
ject in his criticism to dull antipathy, or as
so often happened to Sainte-Beuve, to a jeal-
ousy that he  can not repress, is bound to be
led into grave errors.
  The best of them are whirled about in the
maelstrom of life in  Paris.  There comes to
mind an avowal of Brunetiere:  "I read a
great deal, I read rapidly,  and I have a good
memory. For instance, this morning I read in
two hours the new book of Anatole France
'Sur la Pierre Blanche' which was published
last evening, and I read it in such fashion that
I am capable of giving a  full account of it,
that is, of analyzing  it, commenting on it, in
a word, of writing a criticism of it."
  Does not this seem either a very cynical con-
fession, or perhaps the evidence of a startling
lack of knowledge?  Bearing it in mind, one
is not surprized  to hear this critic indulge in
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INSTRUCTION THROUGH READING
incoherent and ridiculous judgments on Cor-
neille.  He says:  "Corneille's tragedies are
beautiful, admirable, sublime, but they are
neither alive, human, nor real."  A tragedy
which is  neither human nor real can not be
admirable.  It is the work of a madman, and
to speak thus of Corneille is to  pronounce
judgment on oneself.  Bainville says:  "The
truth is  that  Brunetiere gave  utterance to
categorical statements, in a manner that ad-
mitted of no reply, about subjects that he un-
derstood neither  through thought nor feel-
ing."  Let us be prudent, therefore, in our
selection of books for complementary read-
ing.  Let  us guard  against  wasting  our
energy, and disdain to read authors who write
too much and too fast, and who flood the re-
views and the daily newspapers with their
inexhaustible chatter.
  We are very simple-minded when we are
young, and we are beguiled by famous* names.
We do not realize that when  well-known au-
thors let themselves be lured into the mael-
strom of Parisian life their energy very soon
becomes  dissipated.   It is beyond them to
spend long weeks in  tranquil meditation.
They are on parade, called upon to express
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themselves in the newspapers, and nearly all
of them live thenceforward on the capital of
conscientious effort accumulated during their
years of obscurity.   To  this capital  they
never add anything.  How many members of
the French Academy have written or are now
writing  without ceasing?  In years to come,
when literary prospectors seek for gold in the
immense tract of sand they have left behind,
how  laborious and discouraging their search
will be.
  Nor should we read the works of authors
without personality, even if they  are mem-
bers  of  the Institute,  for they lower history
to the level of back-stairs gossip and show an
unhealthy and spying curiosity in biography.
This taste for that  which is contemptible is
the sign of a small mind.  Of what importance
is it  to  know whether Faustine  was faithful
to Marcus  Aurelius? The question of the
social weaknesses of Louis XIV or Napoleon
is a subject only of  interest to those who
revel in idle and unprofitable gossip, to which
we should never allow our minds to  descend.
  A  familiar form of complementary reading
might be compared  in some wise to  hunting.
Just as* the  hunter goes across  fields  and
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through the woods, his finger on the trigger
of his gun, his eyes and ears alert, so we go
through books in which we hope to find some
information, some suggestion, some aid.  As
we read thus currently, all the comprehensive
quality of our mind is active, and very often
secures for us some returns. But what a loss
of time and freshness of mind is involved in
such reading.  Beyle called it "reading with
one's fingers."  This is the kind of reading
done by the erudite, which is very dangerous
because it gets us out of the habit of thinking
for ourselves.  On the contrary, it becomes
our practise to avoid testing what we read
with reality, or with what we know within
ourselves.
              MORAL READING
   Ranking above complementary reading and
on the same level with reading for intellec-
tual information we find reading for moral
instruction or mental edification.  There are
certain books vibrant with good so that they
enfranchise and  fortify the spirit mightily.
In the midst of the turmoil and sway of the
passions they enable us to set the foundations
 of a stable will.  This is possible only if we
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patiently  organize  superior  thoughts  and
reasonable feeling in blocks of resistance.  In
my "Education of the Will" I  make clear
the strategy  and tactics through which we
may succeed in this building  up  of our per-
sonality and character, and many readers un-
known to me have written by way of apprecia-
tion that this book has been their salvation.
Such books can be  compared to tonics, for
they are  designed to strengthen our good
resolutions and our higher thoughts, and they
should not be read rapidly.  They should be
read in meditative fashion  so that their es-
sence is distilled into the soul drop by drop,
as we take away the memory of them in our
walk of life.  St. Francis de Sales spent his
whole life in  pondering on  the "Spiritual
Combat."  We must  take  the thoughts of
higher men and shape them into a "spiritual
bouquet"  from which we shall  inspire the
perfume of  strength in moments when our
heart seems to fail. It is a good practise to
learn by heart the axioms of the noblest of
the great moralists.
  Also it is the duty of each one of us to seek,
amid the souls of those who were most richly
and most  nobly endowed with the wealth of
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the intellect, the particular  ones  who  are
nearest to our heart, and to form of them a
family whose wisdom and affection serve as
help and support as well as stimulus in our
intervals of discouragement.
  Above all, they who are young must not for-
get that they are weaving the warp and woof
of their future.  Apart from the tragedy of
premature  demise the only cruel fatality is
the slow imprisonment of the soul in idle or
evil habits that finally become too strong for
the will to  break.  Once will-power becomes
weakened the slow building up of the prison
that closes  in  the  soul  is a  dire  tragedy.
Moreover we must have heed in our selection
of reading, for in what we read there is to be
considered  the dignity and the liberty of our
riper years. Some books there are which we
should absolutely forbid ourselves to read.
  Frequent association with embittered and
discouraged invalids is  depressing.   Now
there are many writers who lead a kind of
abnormal life  which makes them invalids
mentally, so that their works are heavy with
a something unhealthy and morbid and their
effect is to diminish energy  and happiness.
If we decide to give our attention only to the
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inevitable contrarieties of life we may with-
out much effort become disgusted with both
our line of occupation and life itself.  Let us
therefore have care to keep the will  to live
intact within us, and let us dismiss without
the slightest hesitation those books that  op-
press and discourage us, or incline us to be-
lieve that at another period, in another coun-
try, under other conditions, we should have
been happy mortals. It is our business cour-
ageously to do our duty in the  period and
place in which we actually live.
          READING FOR  DIVERSION
  There  remains  to be  considered reading
that is done for diversion.  The number of
novels published each year is  almost beyond
computation.  Criticism is no longer inde-
pendent ; and it will be remembered that there
are other faults with which we have charged
it.
  It is impossible to judge whether a  book is
possest of any value  until we have read it.
But we can confine our reading to such novels
as have an established reputation.  The great
majority  of novelists are first of all money
makers, and they are in a great hurry to make
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INSTRUCTION THROUGH READING
their money.  They have neither the time nor
the taste to practise  scrupulous regard for
truth and for verisimilitude.  Their highest
aim is to arouse the elementary emotions "by
placing  their  heroes  and their heroines  in
dangerous  situations.   From  these  danger-
ous situations other heroes, who are invulner-
able to  bullets,  able to walk  through stone
walls and to disregard utterly the  laws  of
gravity, come to the rescue of the heroes and
heroines in desperate  plight.  One rises from
reading such books with a false notion of the
design and color of life and with a mind dulled
by the infection of the absurd.  Literature  of
this  unhealthy  kind  flourishes because the
great mass of readers demand from a  book
only such mental excitement as they find pro-
vided in the reports of an actual crime or a
daring burglary. The mind has such a tenu-
ous control over the scientific spirit that inter-
course with silliness and stupidity may pro-
duce impairment of a sound intelligence.  For
this reason it is wise  to avoid any such risk
in frivolous reading. It is to be noted, further-
more, that reading which interests us solely
through the appeal to our curiosity  involves
us in another imprudence,  namely  that we
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spend long hours sitting perfectly still at the
same time as we make an exhaustive demand
on our eyes.  Such reading* is nearly always
done at a kind of grand gallop, and leaves
the reader thoroughly tired, because he is
continually  hurrying and  devouring  page
after page in order to reach the end and find
out how the  heroine is disentangled from the
various complications in which she is placed
with a staggering swiftness of succession.
  This kind of reading is to the  mind of
an intellectual person what alcohol is to the
mind of the  workman.  It is a pleasure com-
parable to the pleasure of drinking or smok-
ing. The great danger is, as in the case of all
stimulants, that the need for such reading
becomes a tyrannical habit.  We give hours
to idle books  which we should  be spend-
ing in some recreative manual occupation,
for which alas our  unscientific educational
methods do not prepare us.
  We shall never feel the need of frivolous
reading if we like our work  so well that it
becomes the center  of  our intellectual  life,
and if we find in it the joy of constant new
adventure which lies in  the pursuit  of truth.
The only unhappy people are those  to whom
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INSTRUCTION THROUGH READING
work is a kind of punishment and they seek
refuge from themselves in tobacco, alcohol,
gadding about, the theatre, detective stories
and love stories.  It is for such as these that
our fast printing presses turn out the flood
of cheap novels, and that cheaper writers
toil incessantly.
  To  sum  up, we must remember that, in
order to have a  cultivated mind and to be a
person worthy to be called learned, we must
be careful  not to let ourselves  be overbur-
dened with too much knowledge.  Men who
have  constructed great  works know how to
manage the conquering energy of their intel-
lect. Generally they will be found to have read
little, but to have reflected much.  They have
had the courage to advance and look the prob-
lems  of life in the face as did Descartes and
Pascal.  They knew  that they could  under-
stand truly only that which they themselves
discovered or rediscovered through the em-
ployment of their own brain.  They knew that
learning can become positively deleterious if
we read habitually without personal exercise
of the mind.  We must earn the  bread of the
soul in the sweat of our brow, as  Malebranche
has said; and when a man has too much know-
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ledge, he underrates the labor of attention,
for as Montaigne tells us, too many recollec-
tions render judgment unsound.  Pascal says
that too much or too little learning makes one
dull and Hobbes remarks that one is not en-
lightened  in  proportion  to  the  ampunt  of
reading one has done.
         THE ART OF TAKING NOTES
  But in any case,  however thrifty we may
be  in the management of  our energy, the
great mass of indispensable reading we must
do would overburden the mind if we tried to
remember everything.  Fortunately we have
the memory of paper, or in other words, the
supplementary memory of notes which are of
great aid to any intellectual worker.  If we
do  not take notes, many of our recollections
become vague and scattered.
  But notes may become a menace in them-
selves and in the quantities in which they are
gathered.  First,  notes  are dangerous in
themselves if we take them in moments of
indolence or drowsiness of our critical mind,
so  that  they  constitute  a  troop  without
cohesion and without the power of resistance.
Secondly, notes are dangerous  in the quan-
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INSTRUCTION THROUGH READING
tities in which they are gathered, because if
they are not properly organized they are like
a routed  army, which  in the hands  of its
leader is) only a terrified mob.
  It is evident, therefore, that there is an art
in taking notes and each one of us will possess
notes that are valuable in proportion to our
command  of this  art.   Good notes are  the
reward of will-power that knows when to sus-
pend judgment and to deny admission to any
fact that has not stood a thorough test. But
rigorous  choice  in the acceptance of  that
which is to be noted down is not alone suf-
ficient.  It is necessary also that each note we
take be classified so that when it is  needed
we can instantly lay hands upon it among a
thousand  others.
  When  we  are  reading for intellectual in-
struction  we must  take notes because of the
weakness of the attention and of the memory.
We have seen in the foregoing pages that our
minds need the suggestion of writing in order
to  sustain  the  attention.   The  purpose in
taking notes is  that we may have  at con-
venient disposal  the  thought of  a  master
which we can summon frequently in all its
clarity and precision.  Eventually it becomes
                   [329] 
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imbedded in our memory so deeply that we
can never forget it.
  We must beware  of imitating those shift-
less persons who  think that to  summarize a
subject is to pick up here and there a phrase
or part of a phrase.  If our notes are not
made with vigor of mind they will be ill
digested and of no help to us.  We must delve
into the thought of an author so that, first we
understand  it  and then,  we  are able to
express it, in the  strictly literal sense, which
means to force out of a fruit any liquid it may
contain by strong pressure exerted on the
fruit.  The juice of a grape is forced out by
pressure, and so, also, the essential matter of
an author is forced out by a kind of condensa-
tion of his thought, and this requires ener-
getic effort.  When we have made our notes
and classified them, we must read them and
re-read them until we have learned them by
heart, if need be.  This is a practical kind of
effort, for thus we advance  in knowledge and
leave behind  us in our path a succession of
recollections   organized   in  indestructible
form.
  Altho my memory is so poor  that I am
scarcely able to  remember twenty lines of
                   [330] 
INSTRUCTION THROUGH READING
verse, nevertheless  there still remain fresh
in my mind certain books I read thirty years
ago.  These are "The Meditations of Des-
cartes" the "Special Analysis of  Herbert
Spencer" and the "Psychologic Theory of
Matter" of John Stuart Mill, not to mention
others.  I remember these books because over
and over again during my walks and in mo-
ments of leisure I have re-read the notes I
made in the full flush of energetic attention.
  With reference to notes taken of our read-
ing for moral edification it is to be remem-
bered that they must be kept in a place of
their own.  When we glance again at them
we shall hear the friendly voice and the en-
couraging words of the greatest of our ances-
tors.  We  should not hesitate to copy  pas-
sages that help us in moments of discourage-
ment or of grief, or that have reinforced our
ardor in our moments of strength.
  Thus far the taking of notes is obviously a
simple  matter. Difficulty confronts us when
we come to take notes of our complementary
reading, which leads us through  books and
reviews and extracts we have saved in order
to  aid  our memory.  The  saying is that,
what helps does  not hinder.   We  should
                   [331] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
guard against taking notes in absent-minded
fashion because that is pseudo-effort, and also
we should guard against taking notes when
our critical faculty is only half awakened.  A
certain  author has said that  when  he was
tired he set himself to work at taking notes.
Now, notes taken in moments of sluggishness
are dangerous, because when the time comes
for us to use them we shall have forgotten the
conditions under which they were taken.  We
should keep a strict censorship  over our notes
and ask ourselves whether this or that cita-
tion is authentic.  If we clip a section from
an article in a review or in a book, and it is
signed,  we should ask  ourselves about  the
competence of the author.  Is he really an
intelligent witness of the fact in which we are
interested  or  merely a pseudo-intelligent?
Does he think merely with words, or does he
keep in touch with the reality  of things?  Is
his testimony valuable  in the  present in-
stance? What is his character and habitual
rank as an authority? Is he of too emotional
or impulsive mind, or does he maintain a mind
that is free and open?
  By way of example as to my own prefer-
ences^ I may  say  that  I should hesitate at
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INSTRUCTION THROUGH READING
making notes of any judgments pronounced
by Brunetiere on Corneille, whom Brunetiere
did not like and did not understand.   Nor
should I care for his opinion on a novel which
he read within  two hours.  No matter  how
high an authority a writer may be considered,
I am influenced only by such affirmations or
denials of his that he can prove or that I can
prove.   When Hello declares that  La Fon-
taine is not a poet I laugh, and turn to re-read
some  of the  most beautiful poetry in our
language.  Thus I reprove and discard a
critic who is biassed and unsound. Often we
are carried along by a writer who has spirit,
humor and audacity, and from him we  may
take a passage for remembrance or merely
make note of  it.
           SIFTING ONE'S NOTES
  In order to save myself from being glutted
with notes I have a drawer which I call my
sieve.  Into this drawer I throw what notes I
make just as they come. It may be a passage
copied, some  thought summed up in a few
words, a clipping from a newspaper, a page
from a review, or from a book that in its en-
tirety is mediocre, yet possesses some essen-
                  [ 333 ] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
tial truth.  I have no respect for books that I
purchase on the strength of the title or the
name of the author and with which formerly
I was wont to burden the shelves of my li-
brary. Nowadays I cut out the passages that
interest me. At the end of every three months
I make an examination of the notes gathered
in the drawer which I call my sieve, and I sub-
mit them to the test of value.  Thus I ask my-
self : Did I cut this clipping or make this note
because it  flattered my own preferences,  or
because it is true? Is it true and does it prove
what it affirms ?  I eliminate mercilessly from
these notes all that were gathered because of
their  association of  ideas, which now have
passed and were therefore of no stability.  I
eliminate also all notes that! seem feeble  or
vague. Often enough nearly the entire lot of
notes I have held in my sieve is consigned to
the waste basket as  the  result of this rigid
examination. The notes I do not throw away,
I classify.   Consider now that when I  take
pen in hand to write  something based on the
notes I have collected,  how great is my  feel-
ing of security because all these documents,
which are the foundations of my article, have
been verified and subjected to strict criticism.
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    INSTRUCTION THROUGH READING

If we do not exercise this severe censorship
on notes in the beginning,  we are sure of
nothing and also we lose the delicate feeling
for what is just and correct.
  In writing his books on sociology, Herbert
Spencer had to classify an enormous quantity
of facts, and  in order that he might  more
easily clip from the books  of  reference on
which  he  worked,  he  always bought two
copies of important works.  His secretary
made note  of the references  on each clipping
and  classified them in  the semi-circle of
envelopes which Spencer laid out on the floor.
He tells us in  his Autobiography that "some
times a single fact  showed me the necessity
for writing a chapter that I  had not hitherto
thought  of.  Then I would take another en-
velope in order to  place in it  this fact and
similar ones."
   Darwin,  we learn from  his  "Life and
Letters" took careful note  of facts  and the
hypotheses opposed to  his point  of  view,
because he had come to realize that he forgot
these more easily than such as were favor-
able to his conception.  He always worked on
Beveral books at a time.  He had constructed
a cabinet with about thirty or forty drawers
[335] 
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in it and in these drawers he deposited all his
references  and his  notes.  In the fly-leaves
of books that he bought he added a table of
facts concerning the works on which he was
engaged, but if a book did not belong to him
he wrote a  resume of it on separate sheets of
paper.  Before undertaking  any work he
made a thorough examination of all his tables
of facts and of all his files so that he was able
to profit by all the information he had gath-
ered during the course of his life.
          HOW TO CLASSIFY NOTES
  After  many  experiments  the  following
method of classification seems to me the best.
If our classification is too complicated, in-
stead of diminishing, it rather increases the
possibility  of confusion.  Forty drawers are
as many as any one should have, I  believe,
because with a greater number  we  run the
risk of confusion.  I have had made for me
two cabinets containing forty boxes of heavy
cardboard,  the front of each opening out like
a trap-door.  These boxes are numbered and
every number corresponds to a general title-
head.  For example, all that relates to intel-
lectual work is stored in one case,  all that
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    INSTRUCTION THROUGH READING

concerns will-power and will in another, and
so on for memory, reading, etc.  Naturally,
each one of us should formulate his methods
of classification in accordance with his taste
and the nature of his work.
  When  I make note of anything or cut  a
passage  from a newspaper, a review  or  a
book, I have in mind the list of my boxes of
notes and I write on the present note the
number of the box in which it is to be  filed.
If it is a note of sufficient importance it im-
mediately finds its place, but if for any reason
there is  some doubt about its place, I hold
it in my  sieve drawer for further considera-
tion.  If I am reading a book or review which
does not belong to me  I make a note and a
resume in two lines, in which I indicate the
nature of the reference with a cross reference
to the book and the page.
  Work done in this fashion is not founded
in sand and no effort is lost.  My observation,
my reading, my thoughts come to me when I
am walking, or when I am lying in bed, and I
make note on leaves of a small pad of such
images as are suggested to me by natural
Bcenery,  etc.  From time to time I examine
my files of notes and make radical selections
                  [337] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
and re-arrangements.  Thus it happens that
when I have to write a book or a chapter on
any certain subject, I have at hand, and sifted
through constant control and criticism, my
entire experience of thirty years.
  When I have really serious work in mind
my first effort is to make provisional plans
with the idea that they shall later be revised.
The essential necessity in making such plans
is that they be clearly defined, because the
sensibility of our mind when it is working on
some subject and the richness of its intellec-
tual  acquisitions  must be  governed by the
definiteness of our directing ideas.  The as-
sociation of ideas, when we are engaged on
any work, is so prolific that when I have had
a book on the ways for twenty years it seems
almost to be self-constructed and as if with-
out my intervention.  This  is a slow organic
growth without spasmodic intervals, but  calm
regular and effortless, because once the brain
is thoroughly trained, it is no more difficult,
and it is much more agreeable, to think of
one's work than to ruminate on the inevitable
irritations of daily life.   Thus, I have passed
a  happy  life  and  one of  deep satisfac-
tion.  Habit makes everything easy,  and it
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    INSTRUCTION THROUGH READING

creates  the  need of work in  us to such a
degree that,  if any day passes in which I
have not spent two or three hours of vigorous
effort, my unemployed  brain  energy  will
awaken all the  preoccupations  and all the
little worries with which every one of us is
more than amply provided.  While we are
working, such troubles of the soul pass un-
noticed, as is the case with our physical being,
for we do not notice various minor physical
discomforts unless we are doing nothing.
  Vauvenargues remarks that a man "who is
a heavy eater and has  a bad  digestion  is
perhaps the best illustration of the character
of mind of the majority of savants." We all
have weakened our mind and disorganized it
by our voracity for books.  We are all the
victims  of  an  unreasonable  credulity,  by
which we believe in a kind of super-nourish-
ment of the mind  through reading many
books, which in reality  causes only chronic
indigestion.
      READING NOT MUCH BUT WISELY
  To those who can see the matter clearly, it
is evident that the  abuse of reading is only
a morbid  form of the fear of  effort.  Read-
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ing, we do not hesitate to repeat, is the most
dangerous form of indolence because it fore-
stalls remorse by giving the illusion of work.
To my mind many budding talents have been
destroyed by the constant cry of teachers to
their  pupils:  "You must read!  You must
read a great deal!  You must keep posted on
everything  that  happens."   Such  counsels
dissemble the essential truth that in order
to find ourselves we must strive and toil, and
that the dissipation of too much reading can
not serve us to this end. We must insist on
this point because this erroneous method is
the cause of  a great deal of harm.  During
the war a young man of worth and courage
wrote from behind the lines to his father:
"As soon as I got here I gave myself up en-
tirely to  reading.   I spent all my time from
half-past seven in the morning  till half-past
eleven at night, or later, in reading, excepting
only the time I gave to meals and in exercise."
The letters  of this soldier which appeared in
Revue de Paris (May 1, 1918) show that he
hoped from such reading to  gain several re-
sults of which the most important, as he saw
it, was "the development, or to put it more
accurately,  the precision of my personality."
                  [340] 
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Alas, he found in it only disgust, scattering
of energy and a general miscarriage of ideas.
  As so many others, I myself would have
suffered a complete dissipation of mental
energy through the abuse of reading if I had
not been lucky enough to leave Paris for a
college in the south of France, in which local-
ity I could find no books on the subject of my
courses.  In consequence I  was obliged to
depend on my own equipment for the  exami-
nation  of the questions that I was to expound
to my students, and then came the great dis-
covery of my life.  I found that a few hours
of personal effort spent in the actual study of
a question led me much farther along the way
of truth than did  whole  days of reading.
What is more, I found that my reading was
of greater illumination to my mind when it
followed rather  than preceded a  personal
analysis of any problem.
  Then it  became known to me  that reading
among the masters gave me efficacious  aid
only when I myself had done the very best
I could to elucidate a question.  Then it was
I understood that a master is comparable to
a guide in a difficult climbing feat, in the fact
that he can make no efforts for you.  You
[341] 
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must make them for yourself. His duty is to
help you, and above all to give you confidence
in proving to you by his example that such a
climbing feat is possible.  But  you yourself
must  climb  with  the persistent and  sturdy
efforts of your own hands and feet  on  the
rocky side of the mountain.
   The secret of a perfect development of the
mind, which we iterate and reiterate, consists
in setting aside  everything for  the  sacred
hours of pure intellectual energy requisite to
the business of  composition of the  mind.
Reading is valuable only in the measure that
it serves to complete our knowledge. It is
dangerous if it habituates the mind to a state
of flabby passivity, and if it tends to scatter
our mental forces.
          THE  ROLE  OF  THE CRITIC
   Our young people are constantly exposed
to the danger of  being drowned in the rising
flood of books. They are rarely helped by crit-
icism because the newspapers are too much in-
clined to publish  favorable criticism. The un-
usual critics,, who are independent, such as
Brunetiere or Faguet, suffer a certain loss of
penetration as the result of the  demands of
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    INSTRUCTION THROUGH READING

journalism and of a career that too many
varied occupations split up into fragments.
Because the labor of justly appreciating a pro-
found work is long and toilsome they neces-
sarily come to abide by the doctrine of Sarcey
who vaunted the claim that as far as criticism
was concerned he was above all a critic "of
good sense."
  "What does it mean to have good sense?"
he  asked.  "It is to weigh the current of
opinion on every event and to formulate it.
It is  this,  nothing else, and nothing more.
But it follows, therefore that good sense is
variable and  uncertain, for what seems good
sense to-day, very often does not seem good
sense to-morrow.  To have good sense means,
therefore, to think as everybody thinks, or
at least as the great majority of decent people
think, just at a given moment.  Moreover, the
necessity still remains  that this opinion be
rendered in  a  clear  and concise fashion to
everybody who previously  has had  only a
dim consciousness  of it.  There  are those
who have the gift of thinking  as everybody
thinks.   I believe I am one of them."
   This  is the understanding of the task of a
critic as intellectual guide which is bequeathed
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WILL-POWER AND WORK
to us by one of the most famous critics of the
Nineteenth Century.  It  sounds rather like
the declarations of a candidate for political
office.  I do not know whether Sarcey  ever
"discovered" and encouraged a young author
of merit, but I should be surprized to learn
that he had.
  As  far as  I  myself am concerned, I can
state that, of hundreds of criticisms  of my
own books which I have read, with three ex-
ceptions  they all showed that the critic had
not read  the book he  ventured  to  criticize.
In Herbert Spencer's "Autobiography" we
read that he finally forbade  his publisher to
send copies of his books  to  the newspapers.
The truth of the matter is that any work of
value to  which an author has given the full
sum of his energy over a period of years may
very easily displease critics  like Sarcey, like
Faguet, like Brunetiere.  Under the pressure
and distractions of their lives critics are
obliged to live on the ideas they have acquired
thirty years back, which have become  hard
as cement, and  so they are no longer  open
to the reception of new ideas. What is more,
they reach a state of imperviousness in  their
attitude, which is disarming.
[344] 
    INSTRUCTION THROUGH READING

  '' I hardly ever re-write,'' Faguet confessed,
"because  I would rather  write much  than
write well; because  I  imagine I have many
things to say, and also because I love to stir
up  ideas,  and when one article is finished,
another idea immediately suggests itself so
that I am unable either to delay or to consider
the previous  article."  It is evident that this
is a confession of a complete scattering of the
mind, and as it were, a very definition of ver-
bomania. "As the result of writing every day
on all subjects," says Flaubert of his hero in
the Sentimental Education,l' and on all man-
ner of subjects, of reading many newspapers,
and of hearing  many  discussions, his  mind
gradually reached that  condition in  which
it could form no exact notion of facts."
  The proof of the  lack of fundamental
judicial quality in these critics is that in the
end they become controversialists.  Now con-
troversy is contrary to the scientific spirit and
to the critical spirit, the  purpose of which is
to educate the reasoning powers of the reader.
Few freethinkers can  put  themselves in the
attitude of Pascal or of  Bossuet, few Catho-
lics can admit the point  of view of a  sincere
unbeliever, few  Protestants can speak  with-
[345] 
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out certain limitations, even when they speak
of St. Francis de Sales.  All this is the result
of our wretched  imprisonment in  the  per-
sonal viewpoint.
  The very fact that, instead of producing a
work, he criticizes the work of others inspires
in the critic a secret jealousy of creative minds
however much he strive against it. This feel-
ing of jealousy, we have said, even tarnishes
the judgment of Sainte-Beuve, who likes only
writers of the second class, and who is  very
acidulous in his tone toward men of genius.
  The fundamental qualities requisite in one
who desires  to guide the judgment of the
crowd are perspicacity, impartiality and im-
personality of view.  To these must  be added
sympathy and kindness for productions that
are the offspring of sincere  writers.   The
critic should also  be conscious of the difficul-
ties experienced by the finest minds in their
attempts to express their thoughts  and feel-
ings, and he should show charity even toward
the unsuccessful efforts of noble minds.  It
is apparent that the element of controversy
must  be excluded. The critic must be given
to long meditations and to a profound sense
of the mission  of a writer, which is nothing
[346] 
    INSTRUCTION THROUGH READING

if it is not that of an educator in the full mean-
ing of the word.
  I sometimes think that a person entering a
library deserves our pity when I consider how
much precious time he is likely to lose over
books whose sole recommendation is the title
or the name of the author, and to read which
is  an irreparable waste of time and energy.
I myself have lost only too much in this kind
of reading.  I was spurred by the idea that I
ought to "keep myself up to date."  In keep-
ing ourselves up to date, only too often we do
nothing more than listen to the  interminable
chatter  of garrulous verbomaniacs.
        PREFERENCE FOR GREAT BOOKS
  If I were beginning my career now, I should
resolve  never during my youth to read any
but great books, that is books which are the
product of vigorous thinkers.  I have paid
dearly for my experience in much waste of
time and energy, and to him who would attain
true cultivation of the mind, I offer this coun-
sel : Let him deny himself the reading of the
innumerable books that appear in the  train
of the great books and are only a kind of re-
hash of them. These later works afford cor-
[ 347.] 
         WILL-POWER AND WORK________

rections only in unimportant matters.  If wo
are too keen to  keep ourselves in step with
the tide of things we risk being swept away
aimlessly in the  current.
  It is only when  later we  come to  write
something ourselves and we really have  some-
thing to  say, that we should exert ourselves
to keep up with the tide of things. This can
not be done except at a great expense of time
and also with a great deal of irritation to-
ward the chatterboxes who write without hav-
ing a single individual thought.
  Keep in mind always that the memory is a
fragile instrument.  Whatever reading we do
is lost endeavor unless we read  thoroughly
and sum up concisely what we have read, and
classify the result in such manner that we
have it at immediate disposal.
  The means toward a higher cultivation of
mind are avoidance of wasteful effort, activity
when  it is need,  and unfailing order.  If we
reflect we shall see that these things are above
all the requirements of method, that is, of a
thoroughly disciplined wilL
[348] 
IV
METHODS IN VARIOUS BRANCHES OF STUDY

               MATHEMATICS
  By way  of conclusion to this volume on
will-power and work it would seem appropri-
ate to apply the discoveries we have made to
the various professional careers, which may
be described  as the regiments of the great
army that little by little surrounds and cap-
tures the truth.  But this would mean  an-
other book and one requiring  considerable
toil and skill  to produce. Also it would be a
book of subversive nature because our pres-
ent methods of education, when examined in
the light of the laws of  the attention and of
the memory, seem constituted for the service
of mediocre minds and not of minds of vigor
and  originality.
  The foundation of all intellectual training
should be the study of  mathematics.  Lack
of knowledge  in  elementary  mathematics
should be sufficient cause for disqualification
[349] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
in all examinations. An advantage about the
study of mathematics is that it is not neces-
sary to know a great deal on the subject in
order  to profit  by its  beneficial influence.
Mathematics alone furnish the mind with a
type of absolute proof.   They alone afford
us the conviction of the difference that lies
between an affirmation that is proved  and
one that is not proved.  Mathematics is the
only science in which we do not depend on
approximations and which is insistent on the
requirement of exactitude.
  Mathematical  reasoning, which  advances
by successive steps, accustoms the mind to the
prudent habit  of the builders  of our cathe-
drals, who before  they lay one  stone upon
another must be positively sure of the plumb-
ness and solidity of the stones already in
place.  What beauty there is in the structure
reared up by a series of reasonings solidly
joined, and what an impression of strength
and harmony of equilibrium we  draw from
it.  At the same time it must be remembered
that untiring patience is required to move
along calmly and surely from proof to proof.
Here we have  an admirable example of the
education of the  attention absorbed by ideas
                  [350] 
     VARIOUS BRANCHES OF STUDY

that pertain in nowise either to the senses or
the emotions.
  Persons of  an uncultivated mind can not
comprehend a demonstration when shown as
a whole.  They are incapable  of the effort
necessary to keep in the light  of the attention
the successive points of reasoning which fall
upon  the mind as  a whole  and in a single
stroke.  Their mental energy  is exhausted
before they  reach the conclusion.  They can
not follow a sequence  of  deductions.   They
understand the first, are balked by the second,
and are unable to attempt to grasp a third
or  a  fourth, and consequently it is all the
more  impossible for them to make a synthesis
of the various deductions.  It follows that the
education of the attention through the study
of mathematics is of the highest importance
because it obliges the mind to make the effort
at  synthesis,  which merges  several acts of
partial attention into a cohesive whole simul-
taneously.
  When the instrument of  deduction is in
smooth working order it may lead us into
great error if we set out from false  princi-
ples.   Many there are who deduce correctly
drawn conclusions  from premises which are
[351] 
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absurd.  This is a dangerous form of mad-
ness which is called paranoia.  The German
philosophers  in  considerable number have
suffered from this malady because they have
lost  the  sense of  realities and  the logical
products of this paranoia are, for example,
Treitschke  and Bernhardi.
  It is to be observed also that the  study of
mathematics should be completed by lessons
designed to show young persons the dangers
involved in applying the practise of reason-
ing too rigorously to such orders of knowl-
edge as are not susceptible of them.  Des-
cartes, the mighty genius who was the first to
apply  algebra to  geometry,  deduced  from
certain principles all the physical world; and
yet has he not given, with the most abundant
detail,  a puerile explanation of the properties
of the magnet? Is it not one of the weaknesses
of our French genius that we are too im-
patient to endure slowness of observation and
of experiment?  Is not our whole system of
education deduced from certain  false ideas,
the most pernicious of which is, that a child
should have  "some  knowledge  of  every-
thing."
  But  the abuse of the deductive method can
[ 352 ] 
     VARIOUS BRANCHES OF STUDY

 not  be imputed to education through the
 study  of mathematics, as we hear it said so
 often.   Absurd deductions proceed from un-
 verified postulates  and the study of mathe-
 matics does  not  accustom us to be content
 with meager matter of proof.  Despite the
 example of  mathematics, the natural ten-
 dency  of the mind is to  be easily satisfied,
 especially when our prejudices or  our sym-
 pathies have any weight in the problem.  It
 follows, therefore, that erroneous deductions
 are in no  degree to be charged to mathe-
 matics, but to the essential duplicity of feel-
 ing which turns the mind on false principles
 and gives it satisfaction through the rigor of
 its reasoning in working out to consequences.
  What a  temptation there is  to  pride in
 explaining the world and  affording the solu-
 tion of all its problems.  Pride is such actual
 intellectual intoxication that it is more than
 sufficient to affect the sense of proof. Among
 the Germans the intoxication of  patriotic
 pride made Prussia the instrument of the old
 Germanic deity.
  It is unfortunate that our methods of ele-
mentary instruction in mathematics tend to
repugn the student, both  by their  abstract-
                  [353] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
ness and their dogmatism.  These methods
disdain  concrete   applications  which  so
greatly help the young mind  to seize  the
real meaning of abstractions, and instead of
habituating it to discover for itself, they in-
struct the young mind with the discoveries of
others. Such methods do not make proper use
of the  aspiration of the young mind to real
effort. *' After we had learned elementary ge-
ometry on paper," said the late Prince Kro-
potkin in his  "Recollections,"  "we learned
it  anew in  the fields with stakes, the  sur-
veyor's chain and then with the graphometer,
the plain table and the land compass.  After
such training in the concrete, elementary as-
tronomy offered no difficulties and land sur-
veying  became  a source  of  inexhaustible
enjoyment."  Now  abstract methods  of in-
struction deprive the  muscular memory of
such recollections. By pursuing such methods
we deprive  our  scholars of the pleasure of
action. To teach in a book that an elementary
proposition of geometry permits us to meas-
ure the distance between the earth and the
sun is not so stimulating to the mind as to go
outdoors and  measure the height of  a tree
in the fields or of some inaccessible elevation.
[354] 
VARIOUS BRANCHES OF STUDY
  I urge upon those who study geometry by
themselves to learn it in faultless fashion by
working out in the .open a multitude of prob-
lems  of surveying, the height of  objects,
etc.  In the workroom we learn through our
muscles  to solve  a multitude of problems
involved in measures  of  volume.   Further-
more, the necessities of calculus and algebraic
calculus lose all their  uninviting character
when we  realize the practical results to be
obtained  through  them.   Then  when  the
student studies his book and* follows out the
closeness- of the reasoning his progress be-
comes rapid.  Even if isolated in the depth
of some village one can thus acquire the pre-
liminaries  of  an  excellent  knowledge  of
elementary mathematics.
   The  evils  produced*  by   our  abstract
methods in the education of  the mind  are
very many.  How  often it happens that we
find people who  can not  distinguish that
which they understand, that is, who can not
see the proof of that which they admit. The
paradoxical result is, as I have often pointed
out, that the instruction of mathematics even
for students of bright mind, is an instruction
of faith and of authority.  What the teacher
[ 355] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
affirms as truth is accepted as truth.  The
greater part of books and courses of instruc-
tion in mathematics is dogmatic and does not
make sufficient demand upon our reflective-
ness.  It is not only dogmatic but it is also
dispersive.  I take, for example,  a  certain
theorem in geometry which is well known in
our colleges.
THEOREM XXXIH
  If two triangles have an unequal angle con-
tained within two sides, equal each to  each,
the third side is unequal and that side which
is  opposite the largest 'angle is the largest
side.
  Thus the author begins. LetABC,DEF
be the two triangles in which we have C  A
equal to  F D, A B  equals D E, C  A B  is
greater" than D.   I say  . .  .  as a matter
of fact I carry D E F over on A B C, etc.
                  [356] 
     VARIOUS BRANCHES OF STUDY

  Not an instant of attention on the part of
the pupil is summoned to consider the process
of the demonstration, to know that  a con-
struction must be invented which permits us
to confront F E with C B,  which are not
directly comparable.
  We must find a device.
  Let us carry D E F over in such manner
that the base D E coincides with A B.
  Now we must compare F' B with C B.
  Another device: the bisector A H permits
us to find that C H  equals H  F'.
  Now B H plus H  F' are necessarily larger
than the side F' B,  therefore C B is greater
than F. E.
  But this device, the bisector A H should be
found by the pupils  and they should be set on
the way to find it by showing the antecedent
theorem implied in the solution.
  All theorems ought to  be presented as
problems and the effect on the student would
be  aided  by indicating the  sources of  the
theorems immediately applicable, in order
that discovery be  suggested and that  the
problem be  reduced  to  an ingenious  but
facile construction.   Little by little the mind
would acquire the  gift of  scent,  and  the
                   [357] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

instruction of geometry would cease to be
for the majority of learners an instruction
of memory and  authority.
  In this manner the student would always
have before him the sharp perception of the
force  and  beauty  of  the  structure  which
patient geometricians build up in inventing
device upon device in order to arrive at certi-
tude.  Even if later he forgets his geometry,
it is not possible that the student's sense of
candor  would permit him to speak without
proof.

                 HISTORY
  Here we have not the time to consider all
branches of study, but we can at least say that
many changes should be made in the study of
history.  Students  are  overwhelmed  with
masses  of insignificant details and of ap-
proximate information.  In such conditions
useless  education flourishes.  The triumph
of the system is- represented in those great
historical enterprises  in which,  under the
direction of a known historian', each- contri-
butor  writes  a chapter  according to  his
ability.  What is  the result of such  con-
fusion? The cult of the fact is the cult of
[358] 
VARIOUS BRANCHES OF STUDY
stuff and nonsense.  What interests  me  is
the investigation  of  causes, and unhappily
in history there are hardly established laws.
Fruitful hypotheses are rare because  of the
necessity under which  the student  learns
history, and universal geography pulverizes
his mind.  If, as  I believe, the  great fruit-
ful hypotheses which make a savant,  a cre-
ative mind, are the result of years of medita"
tion before his  thirtieth year, the  colleges,
with their unreasonable demand for  sterile
and superficial  universal erudition, prevent
the slow ripening of  original minds. Rather
they tend  to  favor  the acquisition of un-
digested knowledge which  stifles the critical
spirit  and  the  creative  force   of  thought.
They also favor mediocrity and now that our
historians have  discovered that war was in-
evitable, we can perfectly well  declare  that
they did not discover this fact  before 1914.
  It is  of high  importance that among our
future professors of  history there should be
less development of the kind of  erudition  to
which  we are too much given and instead,
a  cultivation  of the  historical  sense which
is closely related to the  psychological sense.
Historical  events  should  be felt  like the
[359] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
events of our soul.  The miseries and the
triumphs  of our  ancestors  are  our  own
miseries  and our  own  triumphs.   We can
not have sound judgment of historical events
if  we do not know ourselves well, because
it is in ourselves alone that we have the ex-
perience  of the  eternal  sensibilities  of hu-
man nature.  For example, it  seems to me
that liberty to think is indispensable for the
progress of society, because  I  know  by ex-
perience how indispensable this liberty is to
my moral progress.  Again if we  lose sight
of the realities there is danger that we stray
into  the  limitless  domain   of  foolishness.
The problem of the distinction between  li-
berty and  license  must  be resolved  in our
own  personal case before  we can  under-
stand the  struggle in history between the
principle of authority and the principle  of
liberty.
  We  see  in ourselves  that  we  can not
escape straying  away   from  the  path  of
reason except through attentive study of the
laws  of things  and profound cultivation  of
the  critical spirit, that  is   to  say  of  the
sense of efficacy.  For example, we can only
tremble for the fate of Rome when we learn
[360] 
VARIOUS BRANCHES  OF STUDY
that the upper classes in the time of Cicero
received an education based on rhetoric of
which neither facts nor the truth are the prime
elements. None of the  directive minds of the
period understood the terrible menace that
imperiled the Republic  in  the presence at
Rome of 280,000 slaves  who were demoral-
ized because they had been torn from their
country,  their work and their family,  and
because all hope  had gone from their souls.
Soon fatalities in civil  war completed the
work of wars waged beyond the  boundaries
and contributed  to  the  annihilation of all
men of fine mind without their having  ela-
borated a body of political and moral doc-
trines to take the place of an abandoned re-
ligion.  The result was  that after the civil
wars nobody knew  just why he was alive.
All gave  themselves up to their  instincts.
Thus delivered to  their instincts,  without
firm juridical control, men become cruel  and
destructive.  The strong  oppress and  ex-
ploit the weak.
  What is necessary to bring out  in history
is the struggle of the opprest  in  the  effort
to gain greater justice and a higher spirit-
                  [361] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
nal life.  The late terrible war gives a mean-
ing to the totality of history.   Events—ex-
cept those denoting growth  and progress—
of which some history books are full, form
only  a  rigmarole  of  the  same  interest
as is contained in family quarrels and the
chronicles of cruelty  and evil  that fill the
newspapers  of the day.
  By way of instance, I may say that Roman
history after Augustus, which relates the
madnesses  of the Neros and the Caligulas
and  so many other idiot  Emperors, is not
worth an hour's study.  The only important
fact of this long period  was  the  develop-
ment of Christianity.  This period did not
produce a  single genius of  the first order,
nor did it afford humanity a single scientific
mind, discovery or advancement.  It seems
somewhat  scandalous to me  that a  stu-
dent  knows  even the  names  of Caligula,
Claudius, Domitian  and Commodus, yet I
find  no trace in several text-books of stand-
ing of the profound causes which made this
period of three hundred years one of nullity
in human progress. The consequence is that
there is nothing to illuminate the minds of
the young, no lesson that stimulates reflec-
[362] 
VARIOUS BRANCHES OF STUDY
tion on their duties  of citizenship  or  that
trains  them for action.  Yet they arrive  at
their majority and they will become one  of
the links of history.   Through their errors
or through their clear perception of things
they will prepare either suffering for their
country or power and happiness.
                  LATIN
  Our  educational system is so removed from
methods of observation and experiment that
even in the  oldest branches of learning, in-
struction is imparted in violation of the ele-
mentary laws  of memory.  As a consequence
of this the most important of scholastic ex-
ercises,—translation into and out of the Latin
language—is  partly barren because  of our
constant  haste and impatience.  Over and
over again I have observed, when I  took up
a translation which had been  explained and
corrected in class, that two weeks later the
best of my pupils had forgotten the precise
meaning of the important words, the shades
of meaning and the felicitous words needed
to render the  Latin into our tongue. Often
I found that they were unable  even to follow
the logical thread of the exercise. It is very
[ 363 ] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
sad to consider that  in cases like  this the
teacher must admit that he has lost his time;
and in my recollection such things have hap-
pened in hundreds of cases.
  What is the cause of this lamentable waste
of energy?  The cause is a faulty method
which, instead  of affording us a  constant
weapon against the deeper deficiencies of
our explosive and irregular nature, on the
contrary tends  to subject itself to  our de-
fective qualities.  When I consider the thou-
sands  of  inspections I have made,  I  find
that the masters who struggled victoriously
against the human infirmity of nervous haste
can be counted in dozens.  So much agita-
tion and so much impatient striving can re-
sult only in a meager harvest of knowledge
because neither pupils or  teachers submit
themselves humbly to  the laws of  memory.
It is  to  be noted, parenthetically,  that we
can command nature only  by obeying her.
  We should not be surprized that the  ex-
planation  of a translation done  in such
haste simply fades out of the mind in the
course of a few days.  It  is done so rapidly
that the result  is merely a medley of re-
marks on  grammar,  observations  on  style,
                   [364] 
VARIOUS BRANCHES  OF STUDY
and some points of historical information. A
little bit of everything, and nothing sounded
to the foundation.   Naturally the attention
must be scattered.  The accumulated results
of this general haste in the procedure  of
learning disclose themselves in the examina-
tion for the  bachelor's  degree, when  the
brain  of the  candidates  may  be described
as like a photographic film on which a nerv-
ous amateur has snapt two or three instan-
taneous pictures.
  The student who  toils  by himself should
select a page of a great and powerful writer
whose logic  is  correct and whose  thought
is healthy.   In this text  the student must
settle  himself so that he understands  the
literal sense,  can render  the thought  even
to  its  most  delicate shadings,  can  grasp
vigorously the logic  of the argument in pro-
cess of development, and can penetrate  by
patient divination into the most  intricate
complications of the sense so that  all pos-
sibilities  of  obscurity are  banished.   He
must imitate  the painter of talent who en-
deavors to transmit to canvas the purity of
the lines in  a  human countenance and to
discover the subtle  logic by which they are
[365] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
united.  When we  have examined an au-
thor's  thought we next advance  to an ex-
amination  of his  manner  of  expression.
By studying  a  characteristic  passage we
attempt to define his style.
  As we go on with our work, we may com-
pare it with the light afforded on the  same
passage by the declarations  of a critic who
has undertaken to appraise  the style of the
author. In  this manner we  come to realize
that every  assertion, no  matter by whose
name  it is signed, is merely  a hypothesis to
be verified by proof, that is to say, from the
text.
   A moral  and historical commentary, de-
riving from the text, should  then follow.  In
all cases  one or two remarks on grammar
with reference to the rule are sufficient.  To
attempt more means to scatter the atten-
tion.   These remarks  on grammar will be
furnished by the errors which cause a con-
tradiction of sense and which we must trace
to their origin.
   As  to the correction of written exercises,
it is a delusion, for the true  correction ap-
plies  to the learner and not  to his written
                   [366] 
VARIOUS BRANCHES OF STUDY
exercise.  He  should be  required  to  dis-
cover the cause of one or two errors.  These
causes he will  set down in writing  so  that
he  corrects himself.  To cover a  written
exercise  with  red  ink  is an ealsy  task,
and the apparent satisfaction afforded the
teacher in such work is  only  a mechanical
refinement,  which demands neither intelli-
gence nor reflection.  On the other hand the
true  educator  is he who can guide  the
learner to correct himself of this  or  that
fault.  This is  only  to say that he must do
little, but  that he must do it with scrupulous
honesty and tenacious patience. It will be
objected  that  this   method  demands  too
much time.  Granted, but the result will be
indelibly  inscribed  in the memory of the
scholar and forgetfulness will  not  swallow
up each night the result  of the day's work.
   I have  often tried out this  method  and
have found that  even mediocre students are
able to reconstruct from memory if  a trans-
lation has  been thoroughly  explained to
them.   If it is  true that the  majority of
students are unable to read a Latin text at
sight  after three years  of study in Latin,
the reason  must be sought in the fact  that
[367] 
_______WILL-POWER AND WORK________

the laws of the mind have not been obeyed.
I have emphasized the importance of method
in Latin translation, because  as  it  is  one
of the most ancient of  scholarly courses, it
affords us  the opportunity  to see vividly
how lacking is  our  educational system in
the  spirit   of  progress  and  experimenta-
tion.   Generation  after generation of  stu-
dents  and  teachers have  succeeded  one
another and no one has ever cried out upon
the absurdity of the  traditional methods of
hurry  and  haste.
  The student who  works  by himself is
more fortunate than the students in a class
because he is  free  to  break with  the  old
faulty system.  He  can work slowly  and
fundamentally on his translation.  If he  has
to translate a whole  book he  will  move
rapidly, but he will reserve his highest effort
for a  quota of the most admirable  pages
so that he  is able  to translate these as per-
fectly  as possible.   If  he wishes to attain
genuine culture he can  do so  only by work-
ing certain  hours  each  week with profound
energy.
[368] 
VARIOUS BRANCHES OF STUDY
                 MEDICINE
  We have  only  to glance through a medi-
cal review of the day to ascertain how very
limited is the sense of  proof in the case  of
most  practitioners.  Clinical  observations
are in general a mixture in which the char-
acteristic traits of  a disease disappear in a
cloud of  details  common  to  twenty  other
diseases.  In  attending the clinic of some
noted physician I have observed that each
student follows  him  from bedside to  bed-
side in order not to lose a word  of what  he
says.   This is  a  sheer waste  of mental
energy.  In this  fashion we see  many sick
people, but  we do not make a study of any
sickness.  He who does not  know how  to
confine himself within  certain bounds does
not know how to study.  The true method
of studying medicine is to follow the  case
of one sick  person or two, to note day  by
day the progress of the disease, to consult
the best  authorities on such diseases  and
to endeavor in the case of each particular
affection  to draw  up  in outstanding lines
the characteristic symptoms of the malady,
while we at  the same time eliminate all that
[369] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

is not essential in the consideration of these
symptoms.
  Many times I  have seen medical  students
Bound  a sick  person, that is,  endeavor to
discover any irregular  action of the heart
or of the breathing, without having known
anything of the rhythm of health.  It seems
to me  that their first business  should have
been  to practise   attentive  and   frequent
auscultation on  their  brothers, friends or
comrades in class  so that they would have
a knowledge  of  the normal rhythm of the
heart and of the evidences of sound respira-
tion  in people in good  health.  Then when
comes  the time for them to examine a sick
person they will be able to notice the slight-
est difference  from the  normal.
  At the dissecting-table it seems to me
that  too great an appeal is made to the
memory and an insufficient appeal to the re-
flective power of the mind.  One would al-
most say that the  students have not, as
has the body they are dissecting,  their one
hundred and  ninety-eight  bones  and  their
three hundred and sixty-eight  muscles.  It
would  seem that before every  dissection it
would  be much more serviceable to examine
[370] 
VARIOUS BRANCHES OF STUDY
one's own frame and reflect on the use of
the members of the human body.
  By  such judicious  reflection  on  one's
own constitution one escapes overburdening
the memory.  Our  body is  always  with us
and therefore affords us the  means to ac-
quire the  knowledge we  seek.   If I were a
surgeon I would never perform  an opera-
tion without having studied it  out at length
in the instance of my own organism. Medi-
cal students  read their  books of anatomy
without ever referring to the living  illustra-
tion they  have in their  own  bodies.   This
is another proof of the  tendency of books
to make us unconscious of realities.
                   LAW

  The study of law also makes an exagger-
ated demand  on the  memory.  Law  has
become  so  complex and  tangled,  and it
reflects social conceptions so incoherent, that
it is impossible  for a student to know it
from memory.  Nevertheless we continue to
study law in the tacit supposition that this
impossibility is  possible.   Law  students
should study law by practise, just  as  they
will  have  to do when they are admitted to
[371] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
the  legal  profession  as  attorneys,  coun-
sellors  or  magistrates  and  must  consider
any  question that comes up as  a problem
to be solved in accordance  with the code,
jurisprudence and reason.  This is not done
by the  majority of law  students who are
content  to receive ready-made  instruction
and  to memorize it.  In my observation of
lawyers and judges,  I have often  noticed
that many of them are too much inclined
to seek  the accommodating aid of a preced-
ent or of jurisprudence before they  deeply
study a question according to the principle
of the code and of reason.  Now jurispru-
dence may in many cases be the offspring of
prejudice, of haste, of  the ignorance  or of
the triviality of certain magistrates and of
the  discouragement of a  lawyer who has
not  appealed against  an  absurd verdict.
Jurisprudence is worth  just what the entire
body of the magistracy is  worth, and there
we find many lucid minds of high  attain-
ments, but  also,  as in the case of all  organ-
izations, an inferior admixture of  dull minds,
disingenuous minds, or minds indolent or
prejudiced.
  Instruction in the law should make as little
[372] 
VARIOUS BRANCHES OF STUDY
appeal as possible to the passive memory*
because a practitioner  of law never works
without his  books.  As in all instruction in
the higher branches of  knowledge, it should
be incumbent  on the student to put his ac-
tive faculties  into  energetic  play.   It  is
rather strange to consider the division that
lies  between the Faculty of Law and  the
Palace of Justice, which latter should be con-
sidered as the experimental laboratory for
the  study of  law.   After a method of in-
struction in law in which  the theory and the
philosophy  of  law  remain abstract  because
the students lack concrete and living infor-
mation, there comes the practise of law ac-
cording  to  a method wholly different and
which the  great majority of lawyers enter
upon  with  habits  of  passive acceptance.
The practise of law is hardly ever vivified by
the  philosophy of law, because the  practise
has not struck its roots into the soil of the
realities.  It  is  comparable to trees  which
are transplanted when they are well advanced
in  growth   and  so  often  promptly  die.
Law students  never have the sensation of
the  direct contact of an  article of law with
human suffering, human despair, broken and
[373] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
ruined lives.   On  the  day  in  which  they
plunge into these cruel realities  the leisure
for  long dispassionate meditation  is no
more, and in consequence it is  impossible
for them to construct a philosophy of law.
This philosophy of law is only the flower of
practise  fructified by  thought.   Abstract
theories, which are hothouse plants,  die as
soon as we  try to transplant them into the
crude earth of experience.  Theories  should
be born  of experience.
  On the other hand, profound study of the
evils caused through laws  carelessly  drawn
and  of the  extreme difficulty of foreseeing
the ill effects of such  laws,  should  be re-
quired of all future lawyers, because  law is
a profession that has not greatly developed
since Cicero.  Now no more than in the  days
of the Romans is it  based on the  develop-
ment of  the  scientific spirit.  It is rare to
find  lawyers who  devote themselves  to the
discovery and exposition of  the  truth.  On
the contrary they count on the indolence of
mind of the magistrates  or  the emotional
impressibility of the  jury  and cleverly dis-
simulate  truth.   They  exaggerate,  and so
deform the facts useful to their case.  Their
[374] 
     VARIOUS BRANCHES OF STUDY

role  may be said to be analogous  to  that
of the  destroyer  patrols  which protect a
battleship against submarines by 'releasing
smoke-screens, for they have their own form
of smoke-screen which is  designed  to  pre-
vent the court from clearly discerning the
facts in a case.   The  law is a dangerous
profession for  the integrity  of the  mind if
it is not counter-balanced by disinterested
study of a science, an  historic  epoch or by
the corrective of some  literary effort.
               PHILOSOPHY
  On various occasions in the previous pages
we have deplored the tendency of our  edu-
cational  system to  aim to  provide know-
ledge about  everything.  This  objective is
contrary to the education of the mind by in-
vestigation and discovery.   The experimen-
tal method which consists in venturing on the
obscurity of  facts, aided by the light  of a
hypothesis, is repugnant to  our impatience
of mind, and the result is  that we begin at
the end  instead of beginning at the begin-
ning.  We provide  our students with  the
sciences  in the comprest form of formulas,
that  is  to say of  words.   Instruction in
1 375 ] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
philosophy is a notorious example  of this
method.  It should be a conclusion,  a sum-
mary,  or better the  light that illuminates
the thousands  of  experiences of the  child.
It should have been prepared  for during
the entire  course  of  a person's education.
It should not be necessary to teach students
who have studied  mathematics in what de-
ductive reasoning consists. They should have
a clear notion of deductive reasoning through
experience.  They should often have reflected
on the fragility of  any affirmation  which
is not analyzed and proved, on the difficulties
involved in the criticism of evidence and on
the insecurity of  hypotheses.   All  educa-
tion since  their eighth  year  should have
familiarized them  with  the capital  import-
ance of habit, the laws  of memory  and the
struggle of the will against any inclinations
of the feelings.
   Moral truth  should  be evident to them
and the study of  moral philosophy should
constitute  no more than a  general  view of
the  entire  experience  of youth.   But  no
such  method  obtains.   Our  students  are
plunged into the  sea of scholasticism; and
moral philosophy  for them  means  the Cy-
                   [376] 
VARIOUS BRANCHES OF STUDY
renaics,  the  Stoics,  Kant,  Bentham  and
Herbert Spencer.  The  discussions of these
authorities  hold little interest  for students
because  they can not connect them in  any
way with their own moral existence.  It is
much to be feared that despite  the terrible
war which  broke  out in 1914,  professors
will again treat of the value of individual
life according to Kantian formulas.  These
conceal the realities, so that we do not learn
that the individual life  is a small matter
when compared with superior realities, such
as the very existence of a nation's indepen-
dence.  This war has forced us all to realize
that spiritual realities are everything, be-
cause without hesitation we sacrifice to them
all material realities.  It is to be hoped that
the reasoning madness of verbomaniacs will
be powerless to obscure this  terrible lesson
by  scholastic abstractions.   It  is  for  our
students in philosophy to face the realities,
to examine  them in all sincerity, and  to
refuse to permit their own personal experi-
ence to be distorted and hardened in rigid
formulas. It is  for them to provide us with
a new and living philosophy.
[377] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
           TRADE AND COMMERCE
  A correct method of work is valuable not
only in studying for  a profession but also
in preparation for a commercial and busi-
ness career.  The important  point  to  re-
member is that  we must consider seriously
whatever  we  are engaged upon in  order
to  eliminate  all useless  effort  on  our
own part or on the part of  others.  The es-
sential duty of the head of  a business is  to
discover the aptitudes of the younger per-
sons in his employ and to stimulate, help
and advance those of talent, because  all in-
dustrial and commercial  organizations are
in constant need of  men  of  ability and
initiative.    According to  the  late  Andrew
Carnegie,  the great secret of success as  de-
fined in his book "The Empire  of Business"
is: " Concentrate your energy,  your thought
and your capital.  Once  you  have  started
along a certain line,  decide to follow it  to
the end.  Adopt all improvements, have the
best machinery,  and learn everything you
can.   Business  organizations  that  fail are
those that scatter their capital, by which I
mean they also  have  scattered their  brains.
[378] 
VARIOUS BRANCHES OF STUDY
You should decide to know the business which
is your livelihood, to  know it  to the bottom
so that you can be an  expert in your  spe-
cialty.  Do not allow any man in your  spe-
cialty  to know more than you  do.  Study
everything that has been done on  earth in
your  specialty.  The  wise man puts all his
eggs in one basket and  watches that basket.
If he is a  coffee  merchant his whole atten-
tion is given to coffee, if he is a sugar mer-
chant his whole attention is given to sugar
and he leaves coffee  alone.  The only rela-
tionship  that  he maintains between coffee
and sugar  is when he mixes them in his  cup.
I have never yet met a man  who was  suc-
cessful when he  engaged in  two different
kinds of business."
  It is evident  from the foregoing that the
experience  of one of  the  great captains of
industry accords with  counsels  that  have
been given throughout this book.
             EXECUTIVE  EFFORT
  There is only one good method of work and
this method should also be  followed in ad-
ministrative  and executive  posts.   Unfor-
tunately  the great administrative   depart-
                  [379] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
ments of the State are greatly inferior to
those of great industry, because of the fact
that too much  reverence is paid to  ancient
ways and also to the fact that the inefficient
factors can not be eliminated.  The idle and
the incapable  employees of the  State  make
progress as rapidly as do the  more  intel-
ligent and active workers, and the  conse-
quence  is  that  among  the employees of
higher intelligence  a sense of  discourage-
ment gradually supervenes.
  The  head  of  a department  should so
organize it that  it is  relieved of all dead
weight.   He should possess a very mobile
mind and one  keen for the proof  of experi-
ence. He should see for himself  and have
constantly  under his control  the efficiency
of those working according to  his  orders,
for the net loss of energy in any administra-
tive  work is startling.   He must keep track
of  orders  given as  they  pass  from one
stage to another and come in contact with
various habitual conditions.  Personally  I
can testify to the amount of time it  took to
do away with  the absurd exercises of  dicta-
tion in schools.  But we must  content our-
selves  with slight  progress toward  great
                  [380] 
     VARIOUS BRANCHES OF STUDY

reforms;  and  console  ourselves  with  the
recollection that  no physician of more than
forty years of age  accepted the theory of
the  circulation of  the  blood when  it was
propounded by Harvey.
  Furthermore the  head of a  department
should hold it as an axiom without excep-
tion that a document which is not very easily
classified  and not  immediately recovered
without difficulty  when it  is needed, means
that so much  work has been done uselessly.
If the person who  has need of a certain
document is unable to  pick it out easily and
without disturbance  at the very moment he
needs  it,  he may not take the trouble  to
secure this  paper,  either because  he  is
indolent  or too busy, and in consequence
positive damage is suffered. No searches  for
necessary papers  should interrupt  work in
course of performance. Whatever information
affects the personnel under my orders is kept
in a little file within reach of my hand in which
are kept my notes of inspection, the notes of
the inspector  general, of  the academic  in-
spectors  and of the chiefs of the establish-
ment. Here also I write  in their natural se-
quence notable incidents, deficiencies, proofs
[381] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
of industry and initiative.  The result is
that  when  the  time comes  for promotions
or changes,  or  for the  annual  reports.
within twenty  minutes there  lies beneath
my gaze a complete list of  all necessary
information,  including  age,  grade,  profes-
sional  competence,  etc., which  enables  me
to make a decision, to compare qualifica-
tions and  so inform the Ministry.  What
is more, these documents  reenf orce one  an-
other and  enable one to estimate the value
of the appraisals of local directors.  In con-
sequence of this reenforcement the chances
of doing  an injustice  are reduced  to a
minimum.
   It  is  to  be noted also that, when a  sub-
ordinate comes  to see me I can always an-
swer his inquiry at once and  extend what-
ever criticism is necessary, or congratulate
and  encourage  him, as the  case  may be.
How would it be possible to act in complete
fairness if one did not have within immedi-
ate access  the list of postulants received by
each post,  with  the motives proffered, which
we must weigh  and analyze when we ex-
amine the respective merits  of candidates.
The heads of all educational  establishments
[382] 
VARIOUS BRANCHES OF STUDY
should have such  accessible  records  about
the students in their charge.  Thus they are
able to supply parents with a complete ac-
count of the condition and conduct  of their
children, of their growth  and weight, their
illnesses, their absence,  their rank in class,
the judgment  of their  divers  teachers  on
the qualities and defects, on the intelligence,
the sensibility, the  will and the  character of
the pupils.  It is easy to see what precious
advice the head of an  educational institu-
tion is able to draw from these documents
in order to adapt the career of each individ-
ual to the profounder tendencies of his per-
sonality.
  Leo XIII  possest  such a  card  index
which he kept at hand.   In this index  he re-
corded, in a kind of shorthand, the conversa-
tions  held during his audiences.  The people
whom he received on a second occasion were
sometimes  amazed when the  Pope  recalled
to them the subject of their previous inter-
view,  which dated  back  perhaps ten  years.
Rigorous order in classifying this index and
in keeping it classified from day to  day, re-
quires a firm  will  and  an initial decision
that we shall always note  down whatever is
[383 ] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

essential and  classify it.  There is great
security of mind gained in the practise of this
method and day  by day  i,he time we save
amounts  to  a considerable  total.  We can
work  without  straining  every  nerve,  or
through  convulsive  effort,  and  with  cer-
tainty, while at the  same time we use our
mental energy thriftily.
               ORDERLINESS
  The  repose and security that is brought
to our mind by a method of orderly  classifi-
cation  enables us to avoid the inconvenience
and  irritation  of having one subject  en-
croach upon the  time allowed for another,
and also it  prevents  it from  troubling our
repose and our hours of leisure.
  Everybody who so desires  might  make
use of an arrangement conceived by Cuvier,
of whom it is written:   "For every work
on which he was engaged a particular cab-
inet was set aside in which were deposited
all books, designs and evidences on the sub-
ject.   Everything was prepared  and  pre-
arranged so that no outside cause could stop
or delay the mind in the course of his medi-
tations  and investigations."   Thanks  to
[384] 
     VARIOUS BRANCHES OF STUDY

this  impeccable order Cuvier  was able to
accomplish an enormous amount of work
despite  the number of his engagements  and
the variety  and importance  of his efforts.
  This is the only way  to keep the  fresh-
ness of impression and the vigor of  atten-
tion necessary in  order  that we may  see
clearly  in  the important  decisions  to  be
made.   A director who  does the work of
his collaborators  and involves himself in
details can not direct nor  survey the work
and necessarily the lucidity and the energy
of his  direction  no  longer  remain intact.
Now the work of the mind, in which is real-
ized the unity of  action of great adminis-
tration, is of  a much higher quality than the
limited work outlined  for subordinates. This
directive thought, immobile at the center of
things, orders all the rest.  In the midst of
change, incoherence  and general  bewilder-
ment it keeps the  sense of orientation.
  A man famous  as  a former mayor of the
City of Toledo, Ohio, who  later became the
American Ambassador to Belgium, has writ-
ten in his book, "An  American of To-day":
"Don't spend too much  time  at your desk,
a quarter of an hour each day is sufficient
                  [385] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK ______

—providing you  have known how to find
some one to do  the work that you would
have done."  Let us  concede the American
humor in this remark, yet it remains  true,
that a chief should keep his  brain fresh
and clear.  If he  wears himself out with de-
tail he is a mediocrity like Bazaine, who at
Saint-Privat  himself set up a  battery and
by  performing the duty  of a  captain lost
the battle which a general would have won.
  The  explanation is that months  of  quiet
meditation are necessary to discover effec-
tive reforms  and  even  to imagine the small-
est successful change that will  increase the
output of labor.  Let us  remember the case
of the Prior, who complained  to the  duke
against the "idleness" of Leonardo Da  Vinci
while the great artist was painting the chapel
walls (page 213).
  In no field of activity,  I think, is there so
much pseudo-effort and  pseudo-intelligence
as in our administrative departments. A de-
partment head who really directs, brings to
bear on  his work harmonious method, per-
fect order and a  sense of what is known in
English  as efficiency;  and this  is no  more
than a clear  understanding that to produce
[386] 
     VARIOUS BRANCHES OF STUDY

a certain effect we must first find  and then
set in motion  the necessary cause.   At bot-
tom, this is the profound sense of  causality
which  marks  superior  minds  and  distin-
guishes them from the superficial.  The first
thing,  then, is to  discern efficient  causes
which  one  never  discovers in  one's office,
but only in contact with realities  and with
those who live realities.  When we  have dis-
covered these causes we must determine en-
ergetically, perseveringly and decisively that
they shall produce  for us  their full results.
  Here,  as  in all  real  work, wisdom con-
sists in discerning  the essential fact and in
refusing to be diverted from it, so that all
our  brain force is  concentrated on  it  and
none is wasted in minor efforts that should
be entrusted to others.
   EXCELLENCE IS GOOD USE  OF ONE'S GIFTS
  The  conclusion  of the  observations con-
tained in this  chapter is that veritable su-
periority  is formed of  the elements which
every intelligent child possesses in its cradle.
If we except some musicians and some mathe-
maticians,  who are on record as  examples
of  a precocity no doubt exaggerated  by
                   [387] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
persons  of  panegyric tendency, who love
the marvelous, we find that intellectual  su-
periority and genius  are nothing more nor
less than long-continued persistence and  pa-
tience.  Great men have always had staunch
faith  in the  sovereign efficacy of work, and
early  in life they discovered the power that
order commands. They did not  divide their
forces,  as do those generals  who court de-
feat,  and as do those men in the paths of
peace who for all their gifts  of intelligence
can not escape failure.  Early  in life they
were  saved  from  discouragement  by  the
acute sense of the presence of the guardian
angel whom in the earlier pages  of this book
we introduced as the  Incorruptible Account-
ant.  They  were fortunate enough to  dis-
cover that time is not merely  a force of  dis-
illusion and  of destruction,  which accumu-
lates  ruins.  Time, the redoubtable sphinx,
devours those  who  fail to  solve the enigma
it poses to passersby. Great  men were able
to solve it and divine  that all that was neces-
sary was to banish any fear of  the monster
from their minds and to  approach it smiling
and with confidence.
   To the distracted eye  the  course  of time
[ 388 ] 
VARIOUS BRANCHES OF STUDY
seems  comparable to the  invasions of the
hordes of Attilla, which destroyed everything
along their path. But to him who observes,
it is evident that time does not destroy any-
thing  which has  been  built up  with due
regard for its laws.  Great men discern what
time respects and  what it  does not respect,
and in obeying the law of  time  they are
able to build up the edifice  of their intellec-
tual superiority. Just as we have tamed the
wild lightning and harnessed it to our ma-
chinery,  so  men   of  genius  beguile the
untamable  elements  in  time, and use them.
The one  and only secret of talent and gen-
ius is  to have confidence in the fruitfulness
of order and of work and  confidence in the
collaboration of time.   In this sense it  is
true to say that genius is  only a long pa-
tience  and perseverance.
[389] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
              CONCLUSION
         THE CHOICE OF A METHOD
  Once his preparatory school days are over
the young man who up to this time has been
surrounded  with guidance  and encourage-
ment,  finds himself suddenly  a university
student, alone in a great city and master of
himself.   It is  a  dangerous moment.  At
first he is, as it were, intoxicated  with  the
novelty of his liberty.  He  is not conscious
of  the swiftness with which time flies,  nor
of the precious  privilege that  he  holds in
the  several years  of study  which he  can
command only once in his span of life.  While
other young people of his age must work for
their living, he, a favored  child of destiny,
has only to think of enriching his mind  and
his  soul.   Instead of being subjected,  sud-
denly, to the contact of the hard reality of
material facts,  all that  is  asked  of him is
that he live in  the intimacy of savants and
philosophers, who  are the elite of humanity.
   But in the very earliest  days of  this  new
 epoch he must make the  pregnant  choice
 which decides  between  two  conceptions of
[ 390 ] 
CONCLUSION
work.  On this choice his future depends.
  A host of  unreflecting students live their
intellectual  life merely  along  the  lines of
chance.  They have not grown up, and have
the defects of the infantile  races,  in that
they are  violent,  impatient, lack foresight,
are wasteful, and live as it were imprisoned
in the present.  For their guidance in life
they depend on the  drift and  direction of
every  chance happening.  They follow cer-
tain courses, take notes,  and make use of
their time as well as they can by mere guess-
work instead of  following the promptings
of their personal aptitudes. It might be said
of many students  that they are merely ma-
chines for taking notes.  To take notes, does
not mean that they are  working.  It is a
kind of servile recitation of the lesson, which
the instructor himself recites from his books.
We do not learn  in remaining passive, but
in  striving  and  acquiring actively.  The
habit of passive listening and retaining what
we  hear  is only pseudo-effort and can lead
only to a mediocre intellectual life.
  It is not along these lines that the  student
who has  pondered upon the contents of this
book will proceed. He will formally decide
                  [391] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
not to manage his life haphazardly, and will
consider it an  offense that any one  should
deem him capable  of  such procedure.  He
does not wish to be the toy of circumstances
nor of his masters, for this  is a species of
servitude repugnant to him.  He  wishes to
be a free man, independent and able to ac-
complish the purpose  for  which he was
born.  He is quick to take shrewd account
of himself,  to  concentrate his energies, to
realize  and  to  develop his personality  and
to raise to the highest brilliance the obscure
tendencies  dormant within him.   Thus  he
gradually produces a slow synthesis of his
sensibility and his reason.
  It may be that  the  ardor of his young
energies will prevent him from doing all he
wishes to do, but he knows that he can ad-
vance  to the conquest of his own  liberty
through patience  and persistency  of inten-
tion.
  It is not necessary to have exceptional abil-
ity in order to acquire solid culture. It is suffi-
cient to make good use of the abilities  we
have.  We all know of families with  modest
resources which are thrifty and prosperous.
They rear their children up to advancement
[392] 
CONCLUSION
and success,  and when age comes they are
assured of independence and plenty of lei-
sure.   Other families  with far greater re-
sources live  from day to day.  Their chil-
dren will have to make their way in life as
well as they may, and the superior branches
of study will be denied them for lack of
means.  Wnen strikes the  hour of age in
the latter kind of family then come priva-
tion and poverty.
  It is merely a matter of  method.  In the
case of the  first type of  family we  have
described there was the ability to distinguish
between  what  is  necessary  and  what is
accessory;  and in  the case of the second
there  was  not.   The  first  kind of family
avoided foolish  expenditure, costly enter-
tainment, and the other did not.
  The  same  holds true with our resources
of energy and mind which  may be just as
easily dissipated.  "If the vine," says  Paul
Louis  Courrier,  "can  pass the flowering
stage  and  not  flow we shall be unable to
store  all  the wine produced this  year."
Similarly, the  student who is far-sighted
knows  that if  his  thoughts can pass the
flowering stage and not go to seed, when
                  [393 ] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
the harvest comes, it will be impossible for
him to exhaust the power of his affections,
his love of work, love of family, his love of
country, etc.  In other words, if he  does not
waste his  mental energy in  a thousand dif-
ferent employments of  no value and in a
thousand  and one  hours of idle and hap-
hazard  reading he  will have difficulty to
know what to do with  the  superabundance
of the intellectual treasures he will garner.
          WORKING FOR A LIVING
  It is to be  remembered,  however, that
there are  some students who can not afford
to give all their time to their studies. Many
instructors,  professors,  medical  students,
law students,  engineering  students,  and
many young  women must earn their liveli-
hood in occupations which consume a great
part of their energy.   Such as these are
prone to lose courage and to let themselves
drift.  Their sense of discouragement is in-
tensified through the  error they  make in
esteeming too  highly  the opportunities of
those who do nothing but follow the courses
of  a college term.   They overlook the fact
that this  good fortune  has its reverse side
[394] 
CONCLUSION
in the dangers incurred by  those who are
so much aided in their studies they can not
resist the laxity  of  passive  labor.   It is a
law almost without  exception that the  will
power of young  rich people is subject to
a decomposing process.   Carnegie, who pub-
lished a book on the causes of success in
business, was so convinced  of  the evil  in-
fluence of riches that "the sons of partners
or their relatives" were not admitted into
his factories and had no say in the direc-
tion of  his  business; and  it pleased  him
often to repeat  the remark of President
Garfield that "the richest heritage a young
man can possess  at birth is poverty."
  My  own experience enables me  to state
that  the same  holds true  of  the  higher
education of the  mind.
  It has been remarked that in Germany
the greatest  discoveries  have been made in
the poorest laboratories. The ultimate prod-
uct of these  laboratories was found far su-
perior to their equipment  and appliances.
This  is explained easily if we consider that
the lack of equipment and appliances acted
as a stimulus to  excite in the experimenters
great  sagacity and inventiveness.  A  con-
                   [395] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

firmation of this statement is found in the
enormous  advantages of American labora-
tories as compared with the  German,  and
the slender American output  of discoveries
of the first order.
  To cite my own experience  I have  found
that as long as I was surrounded with means
of assistance in my work, I neglected every
other effort except the  effort of memory.
It is my profound conviction  that I should
have continued along this smooth but medi-
ocre path  if  it  had  not chanced that one
day I found myself without any aid, and, as
it were, cast into the sea and forced  either
to sink or to  swim.  I might mention many
names to prove how great is  the number of
young persons of talent who  fail to achieve
any result  of value because the vitality and
energy of their  intelligence has been  ener-
vated by too  great a  profusion of aids.
   It may be said that the will only gives us
full strength when it is warmed up, and if
it is allowed to grow cold and feeble we
have all the  trouble  to  stimulate it again
into action.  Moreover,  those people  who
have too many means of assistance are espe-
cially given to rely entirely on the memory
[396] 
CONCLUSION
and so allow the will to languish.  It is  so
arduous to restore its vigor that gradually
such people  become  incompetent.
  Those who are forced to work in self-sup-
port seem at a disadvantage because of the
amount of time required each day by their
paid employment.  But it may be this loss
is compensated by the fact that their will
power is kept  in constant  activity through
the necessity of their daily  task and that
thus it is  always sufficiently stimulated to
make high will pressure  a  matter of habit.
  It follows,  therefore,  that young  people
who are obliged to earn their living should
not  allow themselves  to  be discouraged,
for  it is to  be  questioned  whether their
lot is  not  the  happier one.  Often  I have
remarked  that   young  professors  from
the  provinces  are  superior to  their  col-
leagues who have been  over-stimulated in
special schools;  and if  examinations   re-
revealed not  facile brilliancy and  pseudo-
effort, but the  essential  qualities  of  the
mind,  this would prove  to be the case  al-
most without exception.
[397] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
ADVANTAGES  AND DISADVANTAGES OF A  GREAT
                   CITY
  If it is our lot to live in a small town, we
must guard  against exaggerating the advan-
tages of a great city.  The advantages of a
great city are considerable for the develop-
ment of an artistic career because of the mu-
seums and great classical  concerts.  For the
study of sciences, the great city offers its lab-
oratories and its libraries. Above all the great
city offers the  opportunity of meeting warm-
hearted comrades  who are engaged  in  the
same studies  as you  are  and  who  stimu-
late your thought by their discussions.  Un-
fortunately the great city of France affords
but one example of fraternal collaboration
between masters and pupils, and this is the
Pasteur Institute.   There  is nothing  in  our
universities  comparable to the  cooperation
and  mutual aid that  were the practise at
Port Royal, and in the studios  of the great
painters and sculptors of Italy.  In  a pre-
vious chapter  we  have  deplored  the fact
that such cooperation  as  this no longer ob-
tains.
  But no matter  what the great  city  has
[398] 
CONCLUSION
to give a student  it does not compare with
what he can provide for himself.  No one
can exercise will power  for him, and, what
is more, no one can help him in his  intel-
lectual  development.  It is  good  to  have
been to Paris,  but in my view the highest
benefit  is that we there make the capital
discovery that  no one can help us.  More-
over we learn that all help contains an ele-
ment of danger, for by  accepting it we  in-
cur the risk of limiting  the entire  effort of
our energy.  No one can  exercise will power
for us,  no one  can work  for  us, no one can
think for us.   We all must  gain  our own
salvation; and we  must all earn by the
sweat  of the brow the bread  of  the  mind
and the soul. As long as we  have not made
this  discovery,  and  count on  the aid  of
others,  which never comes, we never settle
down to work thoroughly.  In  a laboratory
we can learn only the technic  of a calling;
and if we have a quick mind  this knowledge
is soon acquired.
  But  for all its  advantages, life in Paris
has equal disadvantages  and the most dan-
gerous  of these  is  distraction and  waste
of time.  The loss of time in moving hither
[399] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
and  yon  is  enormous.  Life  in  Pans  is
feverish, nervous, and continually re-stimu-
lated  with  novelty  and adventure.   The
mind  simply evaporates  in the constant at-
tention paid to minor  things.   Superhuman
energy is needed to  resist  such dissipation.
Time, long, patient meditation, and silence,
are not to be found in Paris  by those who
allow themselves to  be caught in  its whirl-
wind, just as they can not there  find pure
air, healthful walks and deep undisturbed
sleep  at night.
  It must not be forgotten, moreover, that
life in Paris is very expensive, and that an
immense number of young  persons of talent
there exhaust their strength because  they
have to do so many odd jobs to make  ends
meet.  If the wife  does not  resign herself
to a  life of heroic poverty,  her  husband,
whether  writer,  painter  or illustrator, must
work himself to death  merely to "live."
More deplorable and more  tragic is the fact
that  in  only too many cases  he  is  con-
fronted  with  an impossible task  when  he
is married to a vain  woman whose chief
desire is for a life  of show.  His talent is
[400] 
CONCLUSION
driven to superproduction  because  money
must  be  got.  .   .  .
  The waste of  time  in  Paris is terrify-
ing,  and to realize that time  has no real
value for the Parisian we  have only to con-
sider  the unnecessary losses of time he sub-
mits  to because  of mismanagement in de-
partments  of  the government,  at the en-
trance of theatres,  in railway stations and
elsewhere.   A  French  manufacturer  who
has a sense of  organization, a Mr. Citroen,
manages  to  have  thirteen hundred  em-
ployees paid  off each Saturday in eight
minutes.   He pays only in round sums and
what  remains  due is carried forward.  He
has arranged pay windows for eighty, for
ninety, for  a hundred and for a hundred
and   twenty  francs and  every  pay-check
bears the color of its proper window.
       MUCH LEISURE NOT NECESSARY
  It  is unfortunate that  the problem  of
intellectual effort is complicated by a  most
discouraging prejudice.  This is, that long
hours are necessary for opulent productive-
ness of the mind.  Gifford, a famous editor of
the London Quarterly Review, declared that
                  [401]
0 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

an hour of improvisation in the intervals of
obligatory work is worth more than a day's
effort  of  the man who does nothing  but
write.  .  .   .
  In very truth,  writing is a  painful task.
The necessity of drawing upon the resources
of one's brains for composition  is  nerve-
racking if we are obliged to do so for a  liv-
ing.  If this work is not spontaneous, and
if, as happens in the case of the  journalist
or the  critic, one  is obliged to produce even
in those moments  when mental  energy is
not at the  full, the result is the work of a
slave and is utterly lacking  in  spontaneity.
Without doubt it is  of this  kind of work
that Brunetiere   was  speaking  when  he
compared it to slow suicide.  An hour of
free, spirited, spontaneous and joyous toil,
as far  as inspiration is concerned, is worth
days of slow drudging as a slave.  So it will
be seen why in pursuing a  literary  career
it is better  to gain  one's  livelihood as a
professor  or an  employee  in  the govern-
ment service than to do so  through the  ex-
hausting practise of hackwork.
  Every professor and every civil service
employee can find two or  three  hours  of
[402] 
CONCLUSION
full  intellectual  spontaneity  which enable
him  to  create great works.   Cicero was a
lawyer and  a politician; Bacon was a min-
ister  of state;  Rabelais  was  a physician;
Descartes was a soldier;  Newton and Her-
schel were  directors  of  the  mint.   John
Stuart Mill was an employee in the bureau
of Indian affairs, and  Grote, the historian
of Greece, was a banker.
  There is plenty of time for serious work
ordinarily, if we are wise enough to eschew
mediocre amusements  and wasteful occupa-
tions, and if we are  capable, which is a
rare talent, of protecting  ourselves and  our
time  against the persistent  and ingenious
intrusion of those who do not know what
to do with themselves and so pester persons
who would work, just as flies pester them.
  I make particular note  of the necessity of
taking full  advantage  of the time that is at
our disposal.  Our  country  has suffered
much because so many physicians, lawyers,
magistrates, professors, instructors and civil
employees are convinced that an avocation
 requires a great number  of hours each  day
 and such enormity of effort that their regular
 occupation puts it out of the question.   At
                   [403] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK

the end of the day they lay aside all thought
of the special line of work  they  might do
because of  their position  and advantages.
In the provinces we  still find savants and
artists  who  know  how  to make full and
proper  use  of  their energy and   oppor-
tunities.  One  such  will  devote  all  his
leisure time to some historic question, and
the other to the  study of  some great man.
I know an artcraftsman who is a landscape
painter of  high  merit.   Others study a
family  of plants or  of  insects.   But these
modest men,  piously consecrated to some
work of long duration, which is a spiritual
refuge  against the  monotony of existence
and the inevitable griefs of life, are unfortu-
nately few in number. ...  In the foreign
press are published works of great value, the
translation of which is well worth the atten-
tion and  intelligent  toil of young  men or
women who wish to spend the long evenings
of winter in profitable occupation.
  Each one of  us  should  proportion his
task to his strength;  but is it not painful to
consider that of  all the  instruction we have
spread  about us  everywhere the  results are
so  small?  This  happens  undoubtedly be-
[404] 
CONCLUSION
cause our educational methods do not pre-
pare our minds for disinterested work.  If
one looks about him in a small city he is
surprized to discover that the  majority of
those of the liberal professions do not con-
centrate all their  intellectual  energies  on
their profession; and that physicians, mag-
istrates and professors gradually sink into
a purely machine performance of their pro-
fessional duties.   The unfortunate  part of
it  is that if we do not work constantly to
improve ourselves we soon become  inferior
to the  demands of  our position.  We  can
not keep  ourselves  in good  form  except
through the habit  of tireless attention to
what is Steing  done, through constant obser-
vation,  through the test  of personal judg-
ment,  of  reflective  methods,  through  the
search for the profound order in things  and
through the courage of clear-sighted reason.
By such observance alone can we keep  our
liberty of mind and the attitude to seize facts
in their entire significance.
  When men  of character, of lucid intelli-
gence and  the habit of  efficient effort be-
come  numerous we  can break  the  tyranny
of the  state and manage  our cities and our
[405] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK

communities  scientifically.   Then  they will
recover the liberties they  enjoyed in the
Middle Ages  and will be set free  from the
trammels of politics.  To attain this end we
must have men formed by intellectual effort
in the severe  system of historical criticism
and scientific investigation.  Only these two
factors can develop in harmonious  equilib-
rium  the vigor of united thought and pru-
dence in statement and in  action.
       THE DUTY OF SHOWING EXAMPLE
  Of  course  not  every one can pretend to
exercise the mighty influence of great men.
Writers such  as  Montaigne, Descartes, Au-
guste  Comte, scientists such  as^^eoffroy
Saint-Hilaire, Darwin  and Pasteur have an
immense influence on the future of human-
ity.   Mr. Frank  Harris  remarked on  the
occasion of the coronation of the King of
England that: "Nowhere  in the procession
did there appear one of the men who  are
in truth glories of England and the masters
of her best destinies."  There was a host
of politicians and dignitaries  but  none of
the men who stir the mind and  inspire it
with  new thoughts, with new  beliefs, with
                   [406] 
CONCLUSION
new  artistic forms, none of those who offer
the world  discoveries and inventions.  At
the  coronation  of King James I, Shake-
speare appeared in the procession as a  servi-
tor and some one gave  him a  cloak worth
six shillings in order that he might be pre-
sentable.   To-day  Shakespeare towers  in
the height  of his  genius  above  all the dig-
nitaries and  the king of those  days.
   If Rodin had not lived we should all  be
much poorer. He has taught us how better
to understand our cathedrals.  He has  given
us the example  of  artistic  probity,  and,
above  all,  he has given  us a magnificent
illustration of the grandeur and the beauty
of a life wholly devoted to work.   He has
revealed to us the savor that each one may
give to his  destiny in spiritualizing  it  by
labor and earnest meditation.
   It is rather annoying to recall that the
real men of  action, the revolutionaries who
convince minds,  who bring on reforms  by
making them desired of  all and every one,
are  usually   unknown.   During  the  time
of their activity the public scene is  too
noisily occupied by the  theatrical  type  of
politician,  journalist and  popular scribbler.
                   [407] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
It is  really distressing to see these medi-
ocrities encumber even the pages of history
with their pretentiousness.  But fifty years
later what a change there is in the perspec-
tive.  Who knows the name of the English
prime minister who was vocal and gesticula-
tory before the world in the year when ap-
peared  "The Origin  of Species"?   Who
knows the  name  of the  premier of France
who held the reins  of power  in the year
when Pasteur discovered his  vaccine for
rabies.
  Without aiming at the highest role in the
drama of the day, each one of us can  ex-
ercise  the  force  of his  personality  and
ability in the responsibilities devolving upon
him.  Each one of us by his example may
give  more  wisdom,  more  strength,  more
happiness to  others.  The influence radiat-
ing from a healthy, well-balanced  and noble
mind is strong and beautiful on those within
its  contact.   All  we need in the service  of
the people is an honest man at the  top to
have  all disloyal hearts stricken  with con-
science made  fearful.  Uprightness bears a
magnetic influence.
  Inasmuch as physicians, magistrates, pro-
                  [408] 
CONCLUSION
fessors  and  the  like have  an influence  of
communication they should acquire nobility
of character.  After this terrible war,  in
which we have been saved by the heroism
of the crowd, each one of us will be held
responsible by the community according to
his knowledge and his  intelligence.   Each
one of us should work in efficacious coopera-
tion  at the  great  task of national  recon-
struction.
  The first duty of every Frenchman worthy
of the name  is to bind himself resolutely to
the tradition of  our admirable  ancestors,
who built our cathedrals, of our thinkers,
our poets and our great artists  who have
created the soul and intelligence of France.
  The tradition which has made  France so
rich in  beauty and in grandeur is the tra-
dition of the highest moral and  intellectual
qualities.  These  are persevering courage
and an  intelligence which allows one to see
through  prejudice and through appearances
down to the  very reality of things.   These
primordial qualities are all  at command if
we  follow  a  methodical  procedure   of
work.  Work well done  gives us the decisive
verdict  on a  man.  From the quality  of his
[409] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
work we may judge of his real intelligence,
his real character and  his  real morality.
The  same axiom holds true of nations. The
greatness bf French  civilization, the exten-
sion of its colonial empire, which stretches
out on a section of the globe's surface larger
than Europe, is the proof of  the qualities of
energy and method inherent in the French
nation.  The victories of the  Marne, of Ver-
dun and of the Somme are the reward of a
long past of wisdom and will-power.
  If we look into the depths  of things we
shall find that the essential value of French
genius  is  its  love for  work  that  is well
done.   Thus it happens  that  our builders
of cathedrals brought scrupulous conscience
to their task.  They neglected nothing even
to  the least details, for, if  perfection is
made up of minor details, perfection itself
is not a minor  detail.   They all worked
with such  happiness  and unselfishness that
they never even thought  of graving  their
name  in the stone and so their names are
unknown to us.
   With  the  same  patient toil the French
peasant has cleared  away forests, drained
marshes and cultivated the  smallest  little
[410] 
CONCLUSION
bits  of  land.  The attraction of cities  with
their empty, agitated life, where the trans-
planted  peasant  learns  the  doctrines  of
sabotage, which  are the  practical form  of
the German war on French genius, tends to
diminish this instinctive national desire for
work well done.  We  may say that what
foreigners consider excellent in French taste
is the care for perfection in the last detail.
The reproach they lay against us of being
logically minded is only a  witness  to  our
intolerance  of all  that is  incomplete,  con-
fused or obscure.  Our great classics in  all
the arts have this care for exactitude and
for truth.  Let  any one who will, study in
Corneille the admirable heroic expansion of
the  will-power  of  Pauline  who is  entirely
submissive to duty, and the discovery that
she could have nought to do with the irreme-
diable  mediocrity  of  the  satisfactions  of
vanity,  high station or mere physical  com-
fort.  This discovery was  made on their own
account  by the  hundreds of  thousands  of
our young men  who died at the front.
   In re-reading  the "Meditations" of Des-
cartes  one  observes  how   this  admirable
Frenchman through his power of logic  came
                   [411] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

to the conclusion that the exterior world has
no existence  except in  our thought.   This
discovery  was  the point of departure  of
idealism.  It transforms our conception of
the world.
  Compare by  way of contrast work that
is badly done,  ponderous,  illogical  and in-
coherent in the product of the most power-
ful German brain, that  of the philosopher
Kant, who by a kind of coup d'etat re-estab-
lished in philosophy the dogmas of his child-
hood.  He was unable to see that thought is
the foundation  of things, that it is, before
everything,  order and immutable law, and
that the moral law must be founded in reason.
Kant introduced duty  by an act  of  irra-
tional belief.  He was unable either to deduce
from reason or to build upon  experience.
  Whenever  power to organize and men of
valor  have  been  in  demand  France has
elicited the admiration of  the whole world.
What do we not owe to the union of savants
and an enthusiastic army commanded by the
most efficient officers in 1792?  Under Napo-
leon I, who was unhappily afflicted with ver-
tigo about the year 1800, this period was an
epic in events.   Similarly  after the  cruel
[412] 
CONCLUSION
awakening of the defeat of 1870 France reap-
plied herself to work and in a few years had
paid an enormous debt and had built herself
up anew.  After the victory of the Marne, in
the two years  following,  France created  a
mighty industrial organization such as it took
Germany  twenty-five years  to bring into
being.   This organization built up in  the
actual  days of war will, when it  becomes
known, evoke the admiration of the world in
the same degree as did the  victories of the
Marne and of Verdun.
  But  we  must remember  also that when
the country has been wanting  in efficacious
methods of  work  it has always  been  in
danger.  For  example  our parliamentary
routine, the  safeguard  of our liberties,  is
not organized with a view  toward efficient
work.   A parliamentary contributor to the
Revue de Paris writes as follows:
  "Let us go through the corridors [of the
Senate  and Chamber of Deputies] and ob-
serve closely.   We  see tired and weary agi-
tation  and excitement  rather  than joyous
activity.  Weariness  is read in every face
and this weariness proceeds less from idle-
ness than  from the  dispersal or the poor
[413] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
management of work.  We come back home
at night worn out with a particular kind of
fatigue that I have never  been able to ex-
plain to myself.   I think this fatigue is due
not so much to  the bad air or to the  fact
that we have  been obliged either to stand
up or to sit down for a long period of time
than  to  causes   of mental  dissatisfaction.
We have done our work and yet we are dis-
contented  with others and with ourselves.
An impression of dispersal, waste and dis-
cord overshadows all  other impressions and
blots them out."
  The absence of organization in parliamen-
tary procedure and in the  departments  con-
veys to the nation a disturbing sense of the
powerlessness of government. What is more,
it is liable to set afloat absurd Caesarian ten-
dencies  in some  minds.  These  tendencies
are absurd because they turn the attention
away from the one essential question, which
is the intelligent application of capacity and
energy.   It is doubtful whether a  Ceasar
could be other than a demagog, a theatrical
figure, and that  he would  agree to modest
reforms which are at the same time  pro-
found and effective. Like great causes great
                  [414] 
CONCLUSION
reforms  are  silent in  their working.  They
require time. Now silence and time are fright-
ful in the minds of violent natures, which are
always possest by vain and showy people.  A
Caesar would not better our  affairs,  but
would rather make them worse.
  The lack of organization in  the  medical
service was positively criminal in the begin-
ning of the war.  Nevertheless, in the midst
of its appalling drama methods of work were
improvised and after two years and a half
we had an excellent organization.  The lack
of organization is still very great behind
the lines,  where  old  military  leaders  are
not quick  enough to  make use  of talented
hands.   How many officers there are  who
would be much better placed in  factories or
in the fields.
  Even  in universities  we  find  a  similar
lack  of cohesion  and combination of effort
and  no  critical  spirit constantly occupied
with verifying results.   If there were  such
organization  great things might be accom-
plished at universities where the  personnel
is of  high grade and unselfish and  devoted
in work.   But, unfortunately, the effort of
the professors is no  better organized than
                  [415] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

the effort  of the students.  As the inevitable
consequence there grows up among teachers
and scholars "discontent with one  another
and with  themselves, and an  impression of
scattering  inutility and discord."  This is
inevitable when every one is doing as much
as he can, and the result nevertheless remains
inadequate.
             SELF-REVOLUTION
  This  state of things is the more deplor-
able in that  very little effort would be re-
quired to  bring  into  action the  admirable
reserves of the intelligence of our country.
It would be necessary only that there be at
the head  one qualified to re-organize polit-
ical and administrative work. What a mighty
nation we  could then become.
  But  we  must not forget that  our advice
is designed particularly for those who wish
to  learn.   The re-organization  of  the na-
tional   functions  is  not  their   immediate
affair.  Their business is to effect a revolu-
tion in themselves.  A revolution that shall
bear fruit must always  be profound,  and
as  such it exacts o~lm  and patient study of
the  realities, according to which we  must
[416] 
CONCLUSION
measure our work.  Then there must follow
the decision to  discard  all defective prac-
tises.  As we  conclude this book  it becomes
plain that the two  essential conditions of
intellectual work are  first, to avoid scatter-
ing our effort and second, to avoid the fixt
idea or monomania about work.
  The scattering of  effort is the greatest
menace at the  present time. In each genera-
tion thousands of minds  that might enrich
the nation are only beautiful flowers which
produce  no fruit and  die.   But we must
remember also that there  is danger in joy-
less work—work without spontaneity, with-
out  leisure,  and  which becomes  trans-
formed into a kind  of  mania.  We can do
nothing well without a good brain and, as
we have said, a  good brain implies  intelli-
gent administration  of  the body.
  Let  us therefore keep  our bodily  energy
intact  by  reducing  to the  minimum  long
periods  of  sedentary occupation and  con-
finement in rooms  that are  overheated or
badly  ventilated.  As the young  Spartans
were  trained to look upon the  drunken
helots in order to inspire them with a dis-
gust of alcohol, so the young student should
                  [417] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

consider as warnings the producers  of in-
tellectual  rubbish, who  are  white and  pale
with age,  have thin shrunken arms, stooped
shoulders  and hollow chests  and are  half
blind.  In a word, they are marked by the
deformities of  a man  who  is  constantly
seated  and whose  blood  is  stagnant as
water in  a marsh.  Consider  whether you
wish to aim at such an  ideal, and remember
that you  are  a  candidate  for such a  mis-
erable future  if you  do not  reduce to a
minimum   the period  spent  in sedentary
occupation and  by  energetic concentration
bring to  your  work an activity of  mind
that is  at once fresh,  healthy and joyous.
Avoid that maniacal form  of  intellectual
gluttony which  impels  people  who have no
will-power to devour  books,  reviews and
newspapers in such  number that they  com-
pletely  dissipate their  intellectual  energy.
  It is  not only your  physical health that
you must safeguard,  but  you  must  also
safeguard the  health  of  your  sensibility.
Pedants, who are imprisoned in their studies
of  pseudo-effort,  becomes  conscious  grad-
ually that their  vitality is falling lower and
that their disposition is becoming acidulous.
[418] 
CONCLUSION
They never  have time to go  and see the
cherry trees  in blossom.  For  them nature
lavishes  her enchantments  in  vain.   They
still remain  fixt at their table.  Their cir-
culatory  system is slow and  heavy,  their
brain dull and their  whole  spirit without
uplift.  By  their very presence they lower
the moral temperature all about them.  They
are  ill-tempered because they  are  not in
good health  and they are positive killjoys
for  their wife  and  children.  They never
have the time to be affectionate or to  exert
themselves to create a little gaiety and hap-
piness for others.
  Morose and irritable, they bring a melan-
choly atmosphere into the house which makes
life intolerable.  "German pessimism," says
Nietzsche,  "is  essentially winter languor,
not  forgetting the effect of the  close air
and the  poisonous fumes of the stoves in
German houses."  Heavy and pedantic eru-
dition, which produces much smoke and very
little flame,  is  of the same nature as those
digestions which are in perpetual labor and
effort.
  To the young French  student I urge the
maintenance  of  the  great   quality  of his
[419] 
________WILL-POWER AND WORK________

race,  namely, alert action; also I urge him
to go listen to the singing of the birds and
to leave his work before fatigue comes upon
him, so that he  will return to it gayly and
with all his energy, and that he will bring
to his parents  and later  to %is wife and
children the laughter and perennial youth of
the healthy worker.
           KNOW YOUR OWN MIND
  In Upper Ardeche there are certain springs
which seem to  hesitate between  flowing to-
ward  the  Loire or toward the Rhone, and
to seek a  choice between the Mediterranean
and the  ocean.   A choice equally decisive
must  be made at the  opening of the  life  of
each student and  it calls  for  fine decision.
He may  choose an incoherent life, subject
to external circumstances,  subordinated  to
powerful  protection, to happy friendships,
to relatives, to intrigues, with a precise aim,
that of making money.   But if he  seeks
within himself  for support,  if  he  seeks
happiness where it lies, that is in defined and
regulated  activities  and in  an  effort con-
forming to his  profound  tendencies,  if  he
seeks  to  develop  all that is  noble  in his
                  [420]
3< 
CONCLUSION
character,  to  broaden  and  intensify  his
power of sympathy for nature and for men,
he chooses the more beautiful destiny,  but
one  which he  must accept in its  entirety.
Do not do as people of weak will,  who buy
things on  credit  because  the merchandise
allures  them, but who later are  irritated
when they have to  pay for them.  If you
resolve to  live  as the best and most noble
of men have  lived, accept the inevitable con-
dition of  power and of influence,  which is
to know poverty and  long years  of silent
toil.  Time which cherishes those  that re-
spect it, will repay you  with its  habitual
generosity;  but you must not even think of
the victory that is to come.  Make yourself
like  the innumerable heroes who defended
France  in the trenches. Acquire the habit
of laughter, of a serene and lucid  life, and
keep  the   flame  of enthusiasm aglow  in
your  soul.   This  will be easy for you  who
are asked  to live only in the company  of
great writers,  great artists, scientists  and
philosophers.
  We  hear  of beautiful  examples of  un-
selfishness  and  of the epic  spirit of  the
armies  of the  Revolution to  whom  acts
[421] 
WILL-POWER AND WORK
of  wonderful  bravery   seemed  perfectly
simple.   Epic  also  was  the soul  of our
fighters  in  the great war.   The striving
toward  the  best in  life,  the  energy which
comes  slowly into light, the absence of all
hope of external  recompense—because the
true recompense  proceeds from  the action
itself—in these consists the secret virtue of
the great. It is the duty of all who are priv-
ileged  with  the happiness of fully freeing
their intelligence, to cultivate in  themselves
this epic state  of  mind, which alone makes
possible  the conquests  of the laws  of na-
ture and the struggle of  the flower  of hu-
manity against ignorance and barbarism.
[422] 
Books on Mind Training
How to DEVELOP POWER and PERSONALITY

            By GRENVILLE KLEISER

   A systematic treatment of this important subject by an
expert.  It gives suggestions  for developing power in
speaking, in reasoning, in choice and use of a vocabulary,
in imagination, in dramatic force, in memory training, in
the strength that comes  from silence and repose, in
prayer, and in various other ways.  A most useful book
for all who have to speak or teach.  12mo, Cloth, 443 pp.


  NERVE CONTROL AND HOW TO GAIN IT
           By H. ADDINGTON BRUCE

   This  stimulating  volume  discusses in  a  familiar,
helpful  manner, the whole question of nervous troubles
and their  causes,  covering worry, timidity,  insomnia,
melancholia, relaxation,  and many other phases peculiar
to nervousness  and tending to cause  it. A book that
will be of great practical aid to all  nervous sufferers.
l2mo, Cloth, 326 pp.

      THE RIDDLE OF  PERSONALITY

           By H. ADDINGTON BRUCE

   An  illuminating  description of  mental life and its
many  amazing  forms.  Multiple personalities, telepathy,
hypnotism,  hallucinations, psychotheraphy, applied psy-
chology, etc. are treated in a lucid and highly instruc-
tive manner and the different theories of various scientinc
schools are explained.   12mo,  Cloth, 307 pp.

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FUNK  <&. WAGNALLS  COMPANY, Publishers
             NEW YORK and LONDON 
Books  on Mind Training
      THE EDUCATION OF THE  WILL
         By JULES PAYOT, LittD., Ph.D.

   An able discussion of the possibilities which lie in a
judicious  training  of the  will.  It  is  based  on the
soundest  laws of  psychology, written in plain,  easily
understood language,  and  is  full  of suggestion  and
inspiration for  every one who  reads it,  however richly
endowed.  The  author  shows how,  by  an  intelligent
combination of intellectual and bodily exercise, charac-
ter  can be  developed  to  the  highest  degree.  12mo,
Cloth, 450 pp.

         THE  EDUCATION OF SELF
             By PAUL DUBOIS, M.D.

   This book reveals the  true sources  of self-control,
shows what are the factors leading  to its  loss,  the
almost certain occurrence of nervous disorders spring-
ing from  this condition,  and explains the  method by
means of which  these unfavorable  elements may be
eliminated and true balance regained.  12mo, Cloth, 350pp.

     HOW TO BUILD MENTAL POWER

            By GRENVILLE KLEISER

   In this valuable work the author, one of the lead-
ing authorities  on  self-development,  teaches  how the
mind  and its powers can be cultivated and made prac-
tically efficient.  He gives rules and  exercises for acquir-
ing those characteristics that lead  to mastery both of
oneself and of others.  8vo, Cloth, 600 pp.

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FUNK  C&. WAGNALLS  COMPANY,  Publishers
             NEW YORK and LONDON 
 
 
 
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